Getting Here

By William Stafford

“Utah restores your soul.” Window
was talking. Aisle leaned over to see:
“Therapeutic all the way.”
It was easy to know –
they were talking to Middle, me.

Window fixed on my eyes:
“Did your parents love you?”
“Did my parents love me – me?
They didn’t beat me, though,
and maybe that passes for love.”

Aisle was not amused:
“You need the Moab country.”
And Window quickly agreed:
“When air comes by at dawn you can
smell that Indian medicine –
it’s Utah air you need.”

Then Aisle nodded across
and both of them looked at me.
Did my parents love me? Me?
If you’re in the Middle, you know,
all you can see is wing –

Well, maybe a piece of sky
While the miles of therapy pass
And you crane to look now and then.
But then if you’re in Utah
maybe that’s all you need.