Blaze

we were riding out to an abandoned farmhouse

on his pearl black Triumph

deaf to the sound of bleating sheep

that was when he told me it was the same model

James Dean had swapped for

three days after

they’d finished filming East of Eden

I tried to tell him that was cool but he didn’t act

like he’d heard me

so I hugged him tight

and set my head on his shoulder

and watched how the yellow moon was shifting

behind the pines

like the face of a jailbird

he’d told me before that his wife knew he didn’t

swing her way

but she was keeping quiet about it

for their kid’s sake

we rumbled into the dry grass and started cutting

through the cornstalks

into a big clearing where he kicked

the bike stand

and told me to get off

he tossed his chrome aviators and then we started

our hike to the farmhouse

which was sagging in the field

opposite of us

we were quiet on the way like a couple of thieves

about to rob someone blind

I stood back as he tore a warped door

off the barn

and flung it into the gravel

inside the air was dusty and thick and the moon

was still with us

cocked behind a streaked window

like we’d traded places

and now we were the jailbirds serving a lifetime

sentence without parole

John pulled off his steel-toe boots

and told me to wait for him

up in the hayloft

I left my loafers there and climbed a wood ladder

until I was looking into the eyes

of a great horned owl

he kept shaking his head

like he couldn’t believe what was about to happen

I was going to be John’s first

but while I was gathering the wet straw

I smelled smoke

and slid back down the ladder

that was when I saw the fire licking the crossbeams

and ran outside

John was passing through the wheat

like a final judgment

his figure was muscled with flame and I kept silent

as he reached for a head of grain

and burned it to the ground