I have a friend—who—as a boy was
hung by a belt loop from a nail—
of a doorframe—and left there—
in midair—and flailing—and
laughed at—by his stepfather and
drunk friends—and it has struck me—
as a metaphor—for a lot of things—
then—one day—this friend
found—and lived in—the world
of Winesburg, Ohio—and “ached
in an agony”—like Odysseus—but
different—for the beautiful loneliness—
of small-town lives—and waited for—
a train