that field in Kansas, I watched a barn
fall in, the flames digging up
from the ground.
___________Now I hear fire
walk in at night across dark heaps
of books and tables and chairs.
I smell the watery stare,
hear the yellow lick the floor slats like frosting,
dream myself back
into that field, that junkyard
of grass in Kansas as real as blue sky.
I dream I crossed with my cousin through ravines,
through Chevys and Hudsons.
Back at Danny's house
our fathers took baseball bats,
____________________knocked golf balls
into that screaming charmed field of flame and color.