You thought
when you were young
that you would never
ride a bus
all the way to Missoula

to try to find

Kathy, that waitress
from the Fireside Tap
to see if she had finally
made up her mind
about

whether or not

to marry that
guy who said
she reminded him
of his mother

and to find out
if she’d ever

decided to
leave her job
and apply
for a new one
at the public library

and if she’d ever
decided to
pack all of her
shit into her
repainted
Ford Explorer
and change her
cell phone number
and if she had ever told
that lady at the rental office
that she needn’t bother
to change the locks
for non-payment…
because she’d soon be

long

…long gone

…that Kathy

…but you rode that bus
didn’t you
all the way from

Albert Lea, Minnesota
to Montana
and you sat beside that
bass player for
a band

the band who’d left him
stranded…
…a couple of
weeks ago
after a gig
in the Twin Cities
and he snored
all the way across
North Dakota
and then he
elbowed you
in the ribs
a couple of times

when you didn’t want to

make small talk about
the state of the economy
and how the IMF
and the trilateral commission
and the Illuminati
and the Posse Comitatus

and the
state department
and the POTSUS

ALL of whom had
conspired to destroy
Saskatchewan
piece by piece

you rode that damned bus
didn’t you
and you didn’t look
back