PJ Nights
on the mall in the center of town
the wind arcs up , whuffing over
my ears -- flip flops slap gazebo steps
my kids want an ice cream cone
and I want a Dixie Dog, its sharp
cheddar cheese and sweet relish
twenty years ago, I craved Brie
on whole grain bread romaine tomato
no mayo and sugarless iced tea
I was cool, I had my cheap guitar
in a cardboard box, I had
my train card for the month
I talked to men from Mars in the courtyard
of Au Bon Pain I slept with
a boy who made violins
yesterday, two boys / my son & his friend /
stayed buried to the waist until
the tide hit their chests they poked
a dead seal with sticks, the dog fetched
and swam on my dive, I lost my
top but recovered I dried out on the shore
salt stiffening my hair today
my children are getting smoothies
at the Bohemian while I lie in the grass,
eyes closed, thinking, remembering,
jotting down the sounds of fauna
flora and machine later tonight (perhaps)
I'll find the poem
smokedrifts
you sleep clouded with rain
cupping the night in your hands
the elfin beat of starshine
tangling hair, deciding which card to play
for now we are secured &
locked into languorousness
little rabbits beneath the stalactites
of bluish waters, love letting go
but never an answer
a questioning moon
into herohood come the flowers
all penning postcards on Sunday afternoons
full of surprising heretical writings
that pit pistil against stamen
dawdling or drawing, the architect wonders
if his tower of glass can support itself
that's wrong,
he knows it will
what he wonders about more is the liquidity
of glass over time, how one day the bottom
will lens the skyscape fatter than the
top
and he'll know why the girl across some
city street with a number on some
floor
above the tenth can breathe so high
without greens or beaches or
the tall
flowers of her/ my dreams or the pressure
of my ballpoint pen now before the
snow
it's paperwhite birch trunks and colored lights
dogs barking
through the fog gospel
on the radio, there is this homely glaze
sometimes a voice telling me
that anything could be enough
©2007 by PJ Nights
