Crystal Light, Golden Corral
Those first few years seeing voices on paper I didn't think about this
as reading yet Wanted to speak back to the page in that secret language
which let objects talk and gave the horses in my book the ability
to name themselves and imbued nearly all names with some meaning
if not a whole other hidden life The way I wondered who gathered the light
for the lemonade my Nana made and how they gathered this light
from crystals and what kind of rock turned light sour in water
The first word I learned to write was my given name written
in exchange for ice cream at the Golden Corral My favorite
for I still rode horses back then and pictured us all as horses
in line for soft serve Under the golden heat lamps
I traded the letters for another run around the corral
to feed my private hunger To be free of my name made secret
by strangers not knowing it In the corral I could rear up on my hindlegs
throw back my neck and they would call me Wildfire Peachy-boy Sweet Danny
I thought surely as I beat those hooves against the certain lines
of the letters of my given name one of us would turn into what
we both found ourselves trying to mean