Meeting a Dentist at a Wedding in Kalispell

What is it to meet
the aging dentist who
seeks to thrive in electronica?
Maybe Michal Menert and
absolutely Kris Moon.
I’ll see you at the Badlander
sometime soon.

But first tonight
in this yard behind a home
in Kalispell
at a table eating both
chicken legs and brisket
with mashed potatoes
and their skins.
Later from this vantage
I will gaze upon a road
(While behind me disco dancing
in full-blown disco garb, and
in huddles around small
burn-barrels, odorous and warm,
various others from New York
or Iowa,
or maybe just down the street gather)
that I may have driven upon,
sliding around the mountain,
easing into the bridge
that leads to blessed roundabouts
and cascades into the eternity
of Montana and of America.

And what a beautiful drive it was!
In a spick and span new vehicle,
V6, neither registered nor insured,
four tires on the road, new to me
but true,
gliding effortlessly in cruise,
marching straight up Evaro
to the marvelous Missions
and past my Aunt and Uncle
in Amish St. Ignatius,
all while blasting groovy tunes,
proceeding past Polson on the Westside
of the lake,
stopping only for Diet Coke
and affirmation
at a wide-spot in the road,
curving, always curving,
while catching the sun shimmering
in reflections
on the endless water
both in the lake and on the road.

I carried on alone, starved
for companion validation
but somehow full of my own,
knowing, always knowing
that at the conclusion of the night
I would find my
pre-made bed
in the back of my new vehicle,
ready to sleep off the keg-poured
Blonde from Tamarack,
the Kava powder from Butterfly,
and the always present
Black Velvet Blues.

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