A FREE RIDE

Franklin called me from San Antonio and asked me if I would send him
money to help him get back. I said, “what happened to your own money?” He
said he had lost it in a poker game. Then we were cut off. I waited for
him to call back, but he never did, so I ignored his request. In fact, I
forgot about it almost immediately. I went out and played tennis with my old
friend, Joe. Then we went to our favorite bar and had a drink. Joe was
getting divorced and had a lot to talk about. His wife was claiming all
kinds of things in court that weren’t true. She said he beat her on regular
occasions and that he was unfaithful to her. None of these things were
true and I believed Joe. When I got home that night my wife told me she was
leaving me. I said, “Why would you leave me? I thought we were perfectly
happy.” “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You never pay any attention
to me. You’re so busy playing with your pals you don’t even notice me,” she
said. “Oh it breaks my heart to hear you say that. You’re always on my
mind, I swear it,” I said. “Well, I’m going to my mother’s for a couple of weeks
and we can both think things through.” “Well, okay, but I swear I love you
more than anything in this world,” I said. Ruth packed her bags and left.
I felt lost at sea. I didn’t know what to do. So I went to bed and slept.
When I woke up it was morning. It was raining outside. I fixed myself some
eggs and bacon. Joe called me and asked me if I would like to go hunting.
I didn’t tell him about Ruth. I said, “Sure, Joe. Come by in an hour.”
I got my rifle out. Put on some heavy clothes. I was ready to go. When
he got there I was glad to see him. We headed out into the country. We
were there for about three hours before we saw something, a deer. We both
aimed and fired. We missed. We fired again and missed. I said to Joe, “We
fired four shots, but I heard seven.” “So did I. Something screwy.” he said.
Franklin stood up and walked towards us. “You guys almost hit me,” he said.
“What are you doing here. I thought you were in San Antonio,” I said. “I
borrowed some money from another guy. I got back last night, and this
morning I decided I wanted to go hunting, and this is an old favorite spot,”
he said… “Jesus, can you imagine us driving home with you strapped to the
roof of the car?” Joe said. “A free ride,” said Franklin.

THE RETURN HOME

The farm was deserted. There was no livestock, no caretakers, nothing
but old apple trees and peach trees. When I walked around it I kept expecting
a dog to run after me or a pig to squeal. But there was nothing, just a hundred-
and-twenty acres of silence. Oh, a hawk might fly over or some bluejays,
but that was all. I walked the whole acreage by myself, just seeing
what memories might come back. I was a child on this farm many years ago.
It was all I knew, it was the whole world to me. My parents were young
and healthy. I thought it would last forever. But eventually I left and
later they died. The farm never sold, I don’t know why. I was settled in
the city and there was no way I could come back and run a farm. Years passed,
I think it must be ten by now. I visited my parents’ graves yesterday and
today I’m at the farm. It all comes back. My little calf called Elsie
was the sweetest thing in the world, our mule called Kickstart, my pony
called Runaway, those were my friends, my school. I’d ride Runaway until
dark every night and be later for supper. In the morning I’d gather eggs
from the chickens and clean out the stalls of the cows and pigs. Then I’d
be at it again, all the way until I got to ride my pony. That was my reward
for a hard days work. Now it’s all empty and quiet. I look up at the farm-
house. My mother’s standing in the doorway. She calls out, “Come to lunch,
Johnny!” I’m confused. Then she calls out again. I start running towards
the house. When I get there I know where to sit. My father walks in from the
livingroom. “I lit a fire in the fireplace,” he said. He sits down. Mother
brings us a big pot of stew. She serves. As we eat our lunch and talk about
pregnant cows. I sniff the air. “There’s a fire in here,” I say. “There’s
no fire here,” my father says. “Yes, there is,” says my mother. My mother
starts to run for the livingroom, and my father walks slowly toward the den.
My mother screams. I get up and go look for her. There’s too much fire. I run
back towards the kitchen, cover my face and start coughing. I see the kitchen
door is still open and run out. Out in the yard I watch the house crumble into
pieces and utter ruin.

The Good Luck Hat

Wherever I go people ask me where I got my hat. I tell them it is just
an ordinary hat, but they say no, it is the most unusual hat they’ve ever
seen. So I’ve started taking pride in my hat and wear it all the time. Then one
day a big wind came along and lifted it off my head and blew it far up into
the clouds and I never saw it again. Then people acted as though they didn’t see me
at all. I wore colorful vests and they still didn’t see me. I put a feather in
my hair and that didn’t help. Then one day I met a woman named June and she
fell in love with me. I don’t know why, but she did. She liked everything about
me, the way I talked, the way I dressed, she even liked the way I kissed.
We decided to get married. We went to the chapel and all her friends were there.
One day on our honeymoon in Tahiti we were playing volleyball on the beach
when a cloud passed over and my hat fell out of it and came down and landed right
on my head. The natives thought it was a miracle and so did I. June didn’t
know what to think, but I wore the hat nonetheless through the rest of the
honeymoon and back to the States. I decided it was my good luck charm. One
time on my way to work I was crossing the street and there was a three car pile-
up all around me—I mean, I was at the exact center of it—and I wasn’t touched,
I didn’t even get a scratch on me, and I attributed luck to my hat, whether or
not this is true we’ll never know, but it seemed like it. My wife thought I
was crazy when I told her this, but how else are you to explain such luck.
Several such miracles, small and large, occurred to me over the next ten years,
a train wreck and smaller such occurrences, and June and I argued each time.
She begged me to throw away my hat but I said no. Otherwise it was a good
marriage. We danced together at parties, we swam on vacations, we drank on
anniversaries. We lived a good life together. One day she decided to try my hat
on outside. We were playing ball with some kids. No sooner had she put it on than
an old oak tree in our backyard started to fall. I yelled out for her to move, but
it was too late. It came crashing down on her and killed her. After her
ceremony at the church, I took the hat into my backyard and buried it, but
it came back again and again.

Awarded the Pulitzer Prize, the National Book Award, the Wallace Stevens Award, the William Carlos Williams Award, James Tate was born in Kansas City, Missouri. Tate's first book The Lost Pilot won the Yale Series of Younger Poets prize while Tate was still a student at the University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop, making him one of the youngest poets to receive the honor. His poems influenced a generation of poets, due to their dream logic, metaphysical and psychological investigation. Tate's books include Worshipful Company of Fletchers, Distance from Loved Ones, Reckoner, Constant Defender, Viper Jazz, Absences, Hints to Pilgrims,The Oblivion Ha-Ha, Shroud of the Gnome, Return to the City of White Donkeys, Dome of the Hidden Pavilion, The Ghost Soldiers, The Eternal Ones of the Dream, The Government Lake, Dreams of a Dancing Robot Bee, The Route As Briefed, and countless chapbooks. About his work, the poet John Ashbery wrote in the New York Times: "Tate is the poet of possibilities, of morph, of surprising consequences, lovely or disastrous, and these phenomena exist everywhere... I return to Tate’s books more often perhaps than to any others when I want to be reminded afresh of the possibilities of poetry."