Starling scattershot / over the sweep of vineyards, / heavy with fruit
For now let's talk about sinking / cities, said my mother
Kentucky can be / what you imagine a rainforest / could be like.
I am halfway there when I see the cars turn back. / Rain bounces off the road, drums on the roof,
on a tarred street / i came to be a driver in a car, / stopped at a red light,
So twenty years of friendship / ended in a small gesture / like a door sliding shut,
My fingers were slick with Crisco / when my heart first broke.
I preferred Polliwog, even then, / squatting by the stream
No purpose to my days, I set small fires / to pass the time.
There it is / my wind in a room / smaller than old- / boy’s suit case
