This is the last one I'm going to read
about going, wandering around, because I
do stay at home a lot.
It's just that when I go out, I'm
so impressed at what I see that I hurry home
and I start writing about it.
This is called "Wandering Pueblo Woman."
"Wandering city streets, making tracks
with the same feet on concrete, not Pueblo earth,
but hard, cold cement with the rest of the city wanderers.
Setting a pace, fast, fast, past Radio City Music Hall,
the World Trade Center, and the studios where soap operas are
taped, past begging bums, and richly furred, spike heeled,
fashion plates.
Mesmerized by an alluring city beat
combined so seductively with the glamour of civilized humans
on every single street corner.
Giving into the sensation of amazement
that tilts your head back in disbelief,
mouth open wide eyes searching for the sky, the sun that
should have been there.
Beyond cement towers, canyons of glass
covered walls, each with stories, hundreds and hundreds
of stories.
My friends scolded me, keep your purse inside your coat.
Don't look in anyone's eyes they'll
think you're confronting them.
And whatever you do, just keep moving.
This Pueblo woman turned city wanderer,
storing each second of every sensation for stories, poems,
pictures, and forms.
Later on, later on, when the city pavement ends,
my head will reel, and fall back again,
mouth agape with the same amazement.
With the same amazement at the sky
I can see now, even at night.
Coyotes greet me with cries from the field by Black Mesa.
A million stars sparkle as they welcome home
their wandering Pueblo woman."