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Directions to Mary Crane’s

Laura LeHew

DIRECTIONS TO MARY CRANE’S

leave before noon
bring your slippers & your pillow
head north
count the hawks perched on fence posts
pee at the 2nd rest stop
count bald eagles
if you are inching along through Portland
pull over for the night in Woodland WA
spot a field of great blue herons
veer over at Auburn
pee at that little rest stop
just off 90 stop for coffee and
a fresh-baked cherry Danish
give up counting crows
don’t forget to
bring your hunger

***

 

KOOKABURRA’S LULLABY
            a haibun

We arrive in spring, in Gunumeleng, on the
verge of the Big Wet where winds blow
northwesterly and the rain does not end. At
dusk the 4 wheel drive jostles us into Kakadu
National Park two hundred kilometers east of
Darwin. Billowy white clouds pop over
sandstone plateaus above the escarpment
where Barrk—the Rock Wallabies reside.
Monsoonal rainforests,       gorges      with
Aboriginal names—Maguk and Barramundi,
freshwater wetlands where birdlife is ruled
by Marawuti, the Sea Eagle, eucalyptus
woodlands, Mangarre mangrove forests, and
the East Alligator River. We hike past stories
painted on rock walls—long necked turtles,
frogs, men with guns. Thunder serenades us.

green ants
swarm my husband’s camp blanket
his girly screams 

Laura LeHew


***

ON THE ROAD—

We had a lion that was living in somebody’s basement outside of Branson, Missouri.
~Tippi Hedren

flight to Seattle—3 hour layover
like the 3 hour cruise
flight to St. Louis—long luggage lines no-one
@ the Avis counter no shuttle long long
time to find a human to locate
a driver—30 customers hot & fraught
10-minutes-away hotel an hour’s crawl
the St. Charles bridge narrowed for repairs
Embassy Suites hosting a jillion screaming
pre-teen pageant girls made-up dressed-up like tarts
whispering hands folded over the other girls’ ears—
shh!shh!shhs{giggle}boysboysboshhshhsh{giggle} or licking
dripping mounds of waffle coned ice creams
next day my nephew arrives for breakfast &
lines for Mediterranean omelets
chocolate chip pancakes the moving
of suitcases & snacks the GPS set
the dearth of dead armadillos on the roadside
begging the question of their migration to Missouri—
& were they still cute and cuddly vectors for leprosy
passing blithely by museums and veterans’
memorials saving them for a different trip
lines at tourism center to pick up pre-ordered
tickets & the Honeysuckle Inn’s Wi-Fi password—
JesusSaves—
precursors for queues—lines—
Styrofoam plates heaped
with big-ass portions—
biscuits ‘n gravy & fried okra
margarine slathered corn cobs
chicken ‘n dumplings & the best damn bbq’d
pulled pork & brisket a girl could find—
all the capital g God Bless all ya’ alls
& OMG—the spend
of Branson

Wiki NOTE: Branson has long been a popular destination for vacationers from Missouri and neighboring areas. The collection of entertainment theaters along 76 Country Boulevard (and to a lesser extent along Shepherd of the Hills Expressway) including Dolly Parton’s Dixie Stampede, has increased Branson’s popularity as a tourist destination. Branson now draws visitors from all regions of the country, mostly by car or bus.

 

The Parade

24/7 big bulky 4 x 4’s or 2 x 4’s,gas guzzlers with extended cabs, CD changers, electronic windows, A/C, leather
power seats, power steering and brakes – roar down the rocky road in a dusty embrace

riders jounce on downed tailgates
sunburnt, hatless, raising listless Bud salutes to passersby
singing off-key on their way to buy more beer or bait or both

Bassriver Resorts, Steelville, MO

 

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About Laura LeHew

Widely published Laura LeHew’s collections include: Becoming (Another New Calligraphy) a non-linear discourse on alcoholism and dementia, Willingly Would I Burn, (MoonPath Press) themed around math and science, It’s Always Night, It Always Rains, (Winterhawk Press) murder/noir and Beauty (Tiger’s Eye Press) fairy tales. Laura received her MFA from CCA. Laura co-hosts a reading series, Poetry for the People. She owns and edits Uttered Chaos, a small press which publishes books of poetry by NW writers and beyond. Laura knows nothing of gardens or gardening but is well versed in the cultivation of cats.

Filed Under: Poetry

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