The Transfiguring Places

They teach you how to survive in the wild,
How stalk a quarry, which roots to eat,
Outdoor skills of no use in the street,
Where in sola hat of branching horns you chase

In grass and air the scent marks not there.
Its in the mind, the transfiguring,
Trysting places (banks, grocery stores) and
The trees you walk under, escaping,

Their leaves burning like light bulbs in the day
And a wind, long-toed, jostling you back
To the rear of a queue or the edge
Of a street, leaving you stamping the ground

With your feet and shaking your hatted head.
Wise up, I say, there’s no running away
But taking the counterfoil or receipt
Crushed in your pocket in your composite stride.