I found the beginning again. They always put it at the end
to remind us. My neighbors are yelling at each other.
They are happy. Language is
different here. Here is where one big sycamore leaf
reminds me of the diseased grove
we walked through two days ago. You wanted to talk about flowers.
We don’t talk about knives and pens
like we used to. Later that day we watched a movie. In it a laptop
was used as a weapon. I want to do that.
Green winter grass. Name
the fish that makes you sick. I missed
my bus and spent the night at the station
6th and Broadway last night. Green winter
grass. Blues below. What is it with wanting to hurt you?
Then the sandpaper fields and the opacity of the fire.
And the nouns that make us feel like idiots.
