we sip ice water and wait for rain
two green metal chairs
a tree
capiz wind chimes all the way from Mexico
blades of monkey grass in the breeze
birds finding their nests with thunder
their chirping dying into salty air
wind flipping twisting
bushes
around edges of an old house
watching the road we count cars in colors
each time they go by
keeping track of which ones
and how many
it always rains.
where do you want to go today
we go inside for lunch
behind yellowed venetian blinds
where glass bottles are saved on a windowsill
and my grandmother has clipped every one of her driver’s license photos
for posterity
fourteen days and seven years ago
you built a tower of stone
beside the sea upon the shore
so i could see your wingspan
as you dipped above the icy bowels below
above the sea your arms would rise
and slowly with the tides
above the sea your form was free
and i could see your wingspan
as you dipped above the icy depths below
~
fourteen days and seven years ago
i left the house of stone
beside the sea upon the shore
turned (my) back on (my) tower in the sand
so you could know your wingspan
as you dipped above the churning waves below
above the waves your form was free
alone above the sea
over the sea your arms would rise
forever with the tides
and you could know your wingspan
as you dipped above the icy bowels below
tipped back into the watery ebb and flow
diving beneath the rising tide
and i could see your wingspan
as you lay upon the cold dark ocean floor
dark western street
cool your feet
park is silent
nothing’s changed you take a swing
and
swing swing
swing
swing
swing
swing
swing
hard as you can into the air
you swing