Tango cans fall among the buds, among your feet,
We'd bend down to pick it up if you'd been from around here,
Sun shines even on this off day, deciding on or not to now
Flip you off, if to checkmate your eating eyes, and there's
One more life. Deciding, never could run away up, away,
Somehow, always more about the strength you saw
In summer, in the long and short of catcalls from the
Mount. It's all about the way youth blooms from the ether
In this weather. Shame the fall is too short, pedals
Holding notes from the high, quiet breaking into lunch break
Making. Take some instinct, take some will along. Plans
For weeks, lists, nucleosynthesis of the sun - but here air
Is dry and like anyone else the forest
Lies. Hot bake children sat in styro-glass shift dresses,
Sand podiums, all cracked in that cot, prism-like
As the little white house in the outskirts.
And that was while I'd found you out, haltingly dressed,
And strewn over acres of unowned land, shortly,
A fist nose-breaking, litter-raking, the man.
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