raindrops and sunshine.
I’ve been bristly all weekend,
most especially after try
ing to get my driver’s license
in Watertown and
being told I didn’t have
the proper equipment.
This morning I woke up
and saw olive oil. It was just
looking at me. Like it
wanted to say good morning.
A dog lopes up a hill with
two people. A fly lands
on my book. Six salted eggs
on Stockton Street. The
tripod, like a spider, lands
on the soft grass next
to the blossom-dusted
cobblestone. Its camera
finds a book about pickle
spears and salted eggs.
The bell rings. It is
another F Train.
