Imagine a conversation.......................

The hay in the loft 
misses the night sky,
so the old roof
leaks a few stars.

Rain clouds gone,
and muddy paw prints
on the moon.

I've never learned from experience.
What else is there? you ask.
How about ninety billion galaxies.

What is it that the wind has lost
that she keeps looking for 
under each leaf?

I grow older.
I still like women, but mostly
I like Mexican food.

Sleeping on my right side I think
of God.  On my left side, sex.
On my back, I snore with my dog.

Some nights are three nights long,
some days a mere noon hour, then whistled
back to work, the heart dredging sludge.

The nightmare we waken from,
grateful, is somebody else's life.

Mirrors have always given the wrong
impression of me.   So do other people.
So do I.  Let's stop this right here.

-as excerpted from Braided Creek:  A Conversation in Poetry between Ted Kooser and Jim Harrison.
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