A hundred sections of rock and grass
With absolutely nobody on it
Except you, a horse, and some scattered cattle
Is never lonesome
And sounds like paradise,
But a trailer house
In town, full of closed-in kids
Too many neighbors and too much noise
Is more . . . lonely
Than anything I've ever known?
Ah . . . it is indeed a tragedy
To contain so much open space
In one misplaced
What I need is a back-country coyote pair
"Go to it, folks"
Drown out the town dogs and . . .
Howl one for me.