I Guess You Had To Be There

by Steven Rea

The snow’s piled high and the drunk guy
is wielding a stick, carving DONNA I LUV U
into the powdery accumulation on a minivan
window and along comes a deer, no, two deer,
looking for conical conifers to digest
and down the road, from around
the bend, there’s a figure in a bright
orange coat — I’m pretty sure it’s you
because cartoon birds are circling
her head and she’s whooshing through the drifts
like a cross-country skier
which she isn’t but she could be
and you could be —
so I ask the drunk guy who Donna is
and he points to the figure in the bright
orange coat and then he points at me
and points to himself, his
forefinger and thumb cocked like a gun.
But he doesn’t look ready to shoot anyone,
he just stares into the sky
wanting to know what time it is and what day
and why haven’t I done something
about the house that’s on fire,
and why’d I get that stupid statue,
and have I read his book, Agony and
Obsession, it’s a bestseller, really,
a real bestseller, he says, just ask anybody in town.
Ask Donna, why dontcha,
here she comes now.