Running Fence

 

In Junior High

When I went
To my best friend's house
To sit on the puffy orange
Corduroy couch
And listen
To Cheap Trick records
We would pick up a book
Off the coffee table
And leaf through it
Kind of enjoying it
Not really understanding it
It was oddly shaped
With an off-white cover
Made out of some
Sort of textured material
Inside were photos of a fence
Stretching across hill
After hill after hill
And through meadows
And across the sides of mountains
And the fence didn't seem
To serve any purpose
It was made of mere fabric
White glossy textured fabric
Tethered to steel poles
Stuck in the ground
Winding through miles
Of western landscapes
I was indifferent or confused
By this book
But I kept on looking at it
Visit after visit
There was wind across that land
Sun pounding down on the fence
One day I chanced to look at
The inside of the back cover
Tucked into a pocket
Was a piece of the fabric
Seen in the pictures of the fence
I felt one step closer to it