Tom Simard

Poetry, Music, and Prose

Montana ’65

Montana ‘65
Snuck in the trunk
at motels,
where ice machines rattled and shook,
along the highways heading west
to the dusty old cattle ranch
with its large log creaky fence;
the simple kitchen
with its bourbon-breathed cook
who fed you cookies and milk;
the fool’s gold glistened in the sun
as you climbed to a top
where you could touch the clouds.

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2 thoughts on “Montana ’65

  1. Love the memory. Sometimes I like things with a strong sense of place, because I can travel there vicariously.

    Like

  2. Such memories stay with me from this trip. So young (5) and every experience a new one.

    Like

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