I would like a little of the
sunlight to come over me
here on this bench, spectral
me. I shot through the St.
Francis a minute ago to
see a little bit of the blue
ocean, its blue a bit Mex
ican, not like what you
might usually call the
stormy blue sea. I see
someone I’d like, but
he’s not blue. My
glimpse was enough,
however. I must have
really been in Mexico.
Yes, my spirit got
caught in a loop and I
nearly lost myself.
Yet here I still am
indecipherable on
this chilly bench next
to the azaleas the
birds hide in to keep
themselves from the
city for just a minute
before stretching to
the west, losing our
shadow in migration.
