Montana (If Only) Poem by Thomas Case

We used to talk about
going
to Montana- escaping it all,
building a log cabin and
making a garden.We were
going to hunt and fish for
food- make rugs and
hats from the fur.

But look at us now.
You live in the
city, and drive a Volvo;
goldfish in a glass bowl.
You even taught your
cat to walk on
a leash.
Can you see the
sky with all the smog?

I'm not any better;
living under the bridge;
the only hunting I do is
for cans, the rare and
illusive
aluminum nickle, so that
I can buy booze.
Every penny I make goes
for
smokes, wine, or vodka.

I walk down to the
river's edge, and look up at
the expansive sky.
I close my eyes.
And when I open them baby,
we're in Montana.