Morning Ride

I know that
the next five tenths of a second depend on an understanding,
I am no fool.

Braking into the cut,
your foot on your pedal.

I am not as fast as I think and
neither are you, but I am
a little faster and head stronger and
that's what counts.  See you later.

Pittsburgh left.

Still Work To Do (atlantic)

Salt and bloody nosed,
she will come, sun rised.
The clouds will watch and we
will suck air like bad fash
yards out of water.  Not scared,
not pitied, not legged,
and not deterred.  In that kind of sand,
muscles taking the give and
pushing regardless, we are
poking fingers into found bottles
for notes unwritten and save our
souls never sent anyway.  The sand is good today.
A little bit rocky, but the gulls are gorgeous and fat
chuck dipping the tide pools.  Freckles don't show
this early in the morning.  Who really does love
swimming at night?  Validity.  Comes
steep these days.  The clouds still watch and we
will suck.  Judgement comes cheap
these days too.  Belting out a
high G I am crying and I
don't know why.
Your feet in the wave rush on those pebbles,
if anyone could call it sand without being generous,
can amaze.  More to say about pedicures.
There really isn't.  Collecting all of the sea glass
fingers can corral.  There's still work to do.
Howl at the moon
so I can hear you over the ocean rush.

Couplets

Step songs.  Stepped songs.
I would love
to believe life moved in those sorts of two a plays.

Duets of little happenings and
us both
enjoying the trappings of a communication clipped.

Into two parts we go,
glowing, but not
erstwhile knowing what it all could possibly be for.

Okay.  You and me and me and I,
the you being
something I like to refer to, in moments of decontructible

nonsense forcing it's way
in to

sleep with me
would you?
I don't want the screen on.
I want heat and dreams are tremendous.
Would you hold me.
If I told you the sky was too big.
The clouds too gray.
The universe hard.
And time too much
for grass blades and everywhere too difficult
to take on alone?

September

When Jack and I went loose
toward the drainage pipe
ending in a cement and grated block
where the marsh grew thick
with cat tails.

I meant to tell you
years removed seeing them now
in cities removed that I'm sorry I left you there
and I'm sorry Jack left too
and I am sorry for every second you
waited while I ran home for a basketball.

I said I would be back in a flash
and I flashed as fast as a blink of an eye could go
when that eyelid was blinking on an eye too young to know.

Remember how the tree tops tickled and licked
at the big sky bowl
that day in September when the trees begin to remember
last years and fast water and melt water and
snows?

It is strange how our birthdays lined up
with so much
pain.
Let's go.  Let's run.  Let's forget
where we've already been and go there again,
like the two foot dirt ramp was the first time and
the four feet from the porch to the ground
was the first time we felt weightless.

Snow is on my eyelash again.
I'm thinking of
middle grounds and clapped hands and
Jack tearing toward us, paws in a fury for home.
I lace up my good boots and pick out my good knife
and pat my good pack of smokes
in my back pocket.  I pick out my good scarf
and think about how you used to smile
when you knew I knew I looked good.
My wallet fits the front and my quarters go
easy into my coin pocket and my socks are just.

I wish we could
smell the same fire.
Miles apart and still burning and waiting
for the leaves to turn.

Smoker 29

We've been singing songs out of Winter,
out of season and out of tune.

The bang bang of air on ear drum is undeniable
when the air we're talking about gets
condensation thick.

I have something for you
in the drawer of the coffee table.

It's all relevant, you know.
Is what I'm telling myself.

Biding time before I have to walk you out
of my home.  Biding time

before I have to and I
have nothing on the hilltops, besides.