I am watching a tortoise
lope its way across a golf course
why did the tortoise cross the green?
to get to the other

Small as we are
universes
tucked in the spare
folds of our minds

it is hot and muggy tonight
all we need is thunder and fireflies
a packed bowl and a campfire
jump scares truth or dare
ghost in the graveyard

show me your strength
i find it sexy
show me your kindness
it gives me warmth

Eleven Chicago winters—
digging cars out of drifts, trudging
to the el stop, thawing ourselves
in smoky bars—no idea how

Unpacking boxes labeled “Living Room”,
she puts the family albums in the bookcase
nearest the door. In case of disaster.

Tornadoes raged.

scratched myself bloody again
tiny tears, thinning skin
punishment for what sin,
what failure to listen?

today I learned
the name of the
white-hot element
that sears the center of my chest

a dozen years back
we danced in the streets
with relief

now
is our autumn of uneasiness

joy
i remember you
we met in the summer moonlight
outside a cafe in 10th arrondissement

too soft for this world
swaddled in lambswool
sheltered from struggle

We stood outside our car
in the gravel turnout
at the top of Laurales Grade
trying to see the Perseids

all the fool’s horses
mercenary forces
who do they
what do they
why do they
serve?

lost at the intersection
of imagination and memory,
this liminal location
a ghost realm
where the walls ooze
viscous
drippings

It feels like the start of an episode.

She lifts the container’s lid.

Duh-dum

the comfort of routine
inevitable inertia
bodies at rest

mere tendency
not destiny