Downtown Albuquerque Poem by Aaron Rudolph

(published in the anthology Ain't Nobody That Can Sing Like Me: New Oklahoma Writing,2010)

Pat and I traveled to the city
with all the concrete and buildings.
We'd come from our little town early
so Pat, who sped his way through the city's
streets a few months before, could square
himself with the court system. A block
from the courthouse, a gray-haired man,
arms and legs as slack as branches,
performed Tai Chi in the morning air.
Around us, cars whizzed by, sputtered
smoke and honked horns, sounds
of a thousand wounded dogs.

Some crazy nut, Pat said about the guy,
and we walked away. But I was thinking
of the man as a piñon tree rooted
in the forest; the wind pushing
through it. The tree looks natural
there, an object in the background that heightens
the scene: a careful brushstroke.