Hidden Baggage

Hidden Baggage

We bring baggage on these trips

Even when we're alone sitting

In an old person's room

With spider webs hanging

In the corners

I bring the Black Hills

With my own thoughts

Of Mt. Rushmore.

Plus all the people

We took as guests there

Through old days years

People expect their local friend

To act as tour guide

No it's okay I'll wait

I've been here hundreds of times

I don't need to hear or see

The hypocrisy again

It's tattooed on my body and brain

Invisibly with nothing ink

Then a satchel full of stories

Spread each time we visit

The poets house on the far hill

On the curb with the view

That's ok in the waves

Of chipmonks and noisy children

Off to the buffalo

Stay in the jeep cannot

Yeah he's two feet away

Thinking he'll horn your face

Hanging out the window

A hundred degrees in the shade

Nice crop of sage this year

Pick it and get caught

You'll pay your fine

Before the college loan

Leave the rock

Public property

Fingerprints are traceable

Now the flight back to Rapid City

Or Deadwood or Sturgis

The headline reads

Tourist Gored by Buffalo

I remember that lady behind

Us on the Harley

No update on condition

But I know the buffalo

Is smirking once again

Barry G. Wick