Prodigal Whatever.

[dukealien]

Weird, feeling
called to my roots.
Prior to being
bound back.

The Missouri,
or Bob Marshal?
Anywhere four wheels
could drive.

*That night with my best friend,
speeding through
forgotten logging roads
listening to John William's
Jurassic Park first edition CD,
lighting on tempo with crescendos
on que.
Laughing, eating
our smoked Rainbow Trout
caught a day prior.

I miss this...

Tracking York
or my Great Great Grandpa:
"The Snake Medicine Dealer."*

Anywhere besides
being stuck again in
Great Falls Montana.
With no car.

This town bleeds blue,
military, corporate,
normal.

It should called,
"excessive dam".
Damn................

My friends though
additionally
myself are myths here.

It is funny I have poems
about them.

Prodigal Whatever.

Tried reading it backward, the title being at the bottom (g).  Perhaps stanza by stanza, that could work.

Wilderlands like that - mine were the Black Hills.  Whatever.

Intrigued by 

"listening to John William's

Jurassic Park first edition CD,
lighting on tempo with crescendos
on que."  - tempted to read "Williams'" and "cue," but they point in interesting directions as they stand.

As for Great Falls, never was on the ground there in normal life.  My disembodied voice, however, may still float in some respect above what we used to call "Wing One."

*Ahem*.  Evocative and delightfully miscellaneous.  May you heal without loss of spirit - it's said time heals all wounds, but only after first inflicting them.