HOME / poem: A weekly poem, read by the author.

from Autobiography of My Alter Ego

By Yusef KomunyakaaPosted Wednesday, June 28, 2000, at 3:00 AM ET

I hitchhiked a year
with Bullet, my impish
gray mutt. She was the only one
who didn't come to me
as a stranger, wagging her tail
as if I'd gone around the block
for an hour. I left my mother
waving in the doorway, my father
drunk in the den. With guitar
& rucksack, we slept in bindweed
& kudzu, apple orchards & ball
fields, beneath trestles
& in voluptuous, borrowed beds
in one-horse towns, flophouses
& parks in big cities,
wild songs & flowers
in my wild hair. I thumbed
the pages of dog-eared
Articles of War, a ghost
of Nam still in the clothes
I wore. I was thankful
for the Big Dipper & the night
owl in the oaks, thankful
Bullet hadn't growled & barked
that morning, as she'd done
so many times before
when I brought home
the slow perfume of women
on my clothes & hands.

Print This ArticlePRINTEmail to a FriendE-MAILShare This ArticleRECOMMEND...Get Slate RSS FeedsRSS
Yusef Komunyakaa's new book is Warhorses.
What did you think of this article?
Join The Fray: Our Reader Discussion Forum
POST A MESSAGE | READ MESSAGES
The joy of drinking.TODAY'S PICTURES: The joy of drinking.
Cartoonists' take on education.TODAY'S CARTOONS: Cartoonists' take on education.
Hard times in Berzerkistan.TODAY'S DOONESBURY: Hard times in Berzerkistan.
Washington Post
The Washington Post
OPINIONS
Regret-Me-Not
Eugene Robinson | President Bush tries to rewrite history.
Telnaes: With His Head Held HighGerson: Absence of Failure