Jeff Meyers
Jogging While U-Haul
Music from windows.
The sky dismantling summer.
Sometimes everything
is above my head.
Three blocks over you pack
your heart in ice and
stuff my name in the dishwasher.
Men I have never met
handle everything we own
with thick brutal hands.
In the livingroom
dust falls upwards,
spirals in new spaces
like fine down.
A strong wind blows
the windowshade inward.
You were never in the way.
I reach the edge of town.
I think, with certainty,
this is September.
Tree branches step in and out
of the shadows, signal me, point.
In the distance there is the distance.
Jogging While U-Haul was originally published in Jeff Meyers' newest book, Hereafter (Quiet Lion Press, 1999), which was a finalist for an Oregon Book Award. He has two previous collections of poems, Half Empty (Future Tense Books, 1995) and Come Over Here And Leave Me Alone (Pandemonium Press, 1997). He works as a writer, theater director, actor, and medical research assistant in Portland, Oregon.
See Jeff's poem Gristle also this issue.
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