I-80 Kevin Roddy I-80 stirs as does a reptile By which my kitchen window, Misted with tumultuous water, Reckons me - but this time it sees My belly hanging, not in weight Presenting life, but in ogive Inevitable, the draw of greedy earth. I now compete with women, The children I remember being. Now My grandmother's hand slithers From my sleeve. I want love. I want my husband touching me In public places - we can No longer clench with animal Offhandedness - but he still wants whatever It is I was, and that is always. Too soon over. I want Chicago As it never really is, the long lines There curving in a sea-storm Of spirals, the women, painters, the insane, Fellow survivors of forbidden haunts of music. Kevin Roddy is in the medieval studies program at the University of California at Davis.