The Wheel Turns On Tarmac The Same Way It Has Turned Since The Invention Of Tarmac, The Airplane And The Wheel
rating: +9+x

summer suddenly dead-
the rain cuts with the self-assurance of a
sharper metaphor,
the season cloven,
the sky pale blue to pale blue with
rolling clouds.
i think of elsewhere.
late-season strawberries and
singing in the streets.
can you stand still for a second?
the bubble hasn't burst yet and
i want to get you in frame.

pinions preened pre-flight poised and

it shimmers behind you in
opals and soap.

in my mother's kitchen:

she asks who it is i'm seeing and i
ask her if she's making soup.

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