a mother with a young child took a quick nap
elderly women clustered on concrete benches overlooking     the water

I miscalculated I was looking    at you Miss     I missed
science and the mood of darkness    I missed statistics
chartreuse volcanic stumps    I parked the car in a pond

several people can’t recall the name they were born with
they’ve had so many names
their own true name
an unknown situation
an invigorating tension swathed in dark blankets                   with
woolen eyes

embossed of icy remains
a motor shuffles
deciding which of the night’s dozens of parties to forgo

because when others were taking the stars apart
I was trying to put together some kind of organized sense of existence         I’d
never known
because I didn’t wish you were still that person I could recognize

because Flannery O’Connor couldn’t climb the stairs
7 tall white rockers on the veranda        barking     barking

Af ghan is ta n
shelled,       bullet-pocked buildings
patched back together after being hammered into fragments
the artifacts

ordinary rhythms of life
around a wobbling barrel

the situation stumped by our distraction of shopping
our own private serape-topped beach chairs

intending argument circumnavigated at an alarming rate
while all the vocalists headed back to the car

as always in a rush      their mango crème brulèe untouched

it’s wise to wear beige

for who the tip of survival of the honeymoon
no bed of daisies yawning    sites of caveat
recall fire in the lenga trees

charred melee