Dough rises. It had scarred me
seeing mama in the casket when I was nine.
I snuck a lock of her hair
and they buried her in Marion where I was born
and where they named me after the doc
who made a house call to deliver me.

It’s easy for me to confuse
trajectory with speed.

We finished filming Giant,
with voluptuous Liz named Leslie
and me as oil-driven, Jett Rink.
If I’d just kept towing my 550 Spyder
I would’ve had time to digest
the coffee and donuts
Bill and I picked up
at Hollywood Ranch Market
while the car was at
at Competition Motors.
We were headed to Salinas Racetrack.
One speeding ticket on the main drag
then I jumped the silver Spyder
on a side road, hit 85, too fast
to sidestep the Ford sedan
turning left in front of me.

Here I am in Fairmount, Indiana,
not too far from mama.
I sure do miss her, remember her dropping dough
in heated oil when the weather
wasn’t hot. She sprinkled donuts with sugar.
Maybe that’s why I chain smoked.