hope ran

Hope ran like a spotted fawn out of the woods and through the campus parking lot
Two dark shapes converged on her behind the dumpster
The coyotes got her, according to the night watchman, “I saw the remains,” he said

I thought I saw her downtown late in the ruins of a spent Saturday night
The dance-drunk mob was spilling out in beer and tobacco air dispersing, when someone smiled for real
She disappeared

I was told she was in Boulder, Ithaca, Santa Fe, Austin
At great expense I sent spies to each location
One was hired away by an agent from the Mob, one came back stunned and unable to speak, one sent emails in a language my computer could not display, and the last one called from a phone booth in Barstow to say, “The best sources place her at or near your address in Santa Cruz”

I held her in my arms once and she became many things
    The Last Judgment
    A Hollywood movie
    A large vagina that swallowed me, and then, immediately
    Nelson Mandela
I don’t remember her leaving

I saw them murder her on TV
They used guns, grenades, missiles, nuclear bombs, nerve gas, IMF loans, misinformation, McDonalds, and media mergers
By the end of the night she was shredded

I swear I saw her in the wee hours on a Star Trek rerun
It was because of Patrick Stewart, the actor, and the way his face broke microscopically as he made the decision against his better judgment
Then: a commercial

Look, here is my address: 1013 Sumner.
Don’t drop by…during the day I work anyway.
But if you are out late, and you’re running through the streets half-lost, seeing visions, and you look up full of longing, and it says, 1013 Sumner,
come in and talk to me
Your clue may be the one for me
My clue may be the one for you.