sun-touched, wavering;
that beech out front
was as much to me a
medicine cabinet as it
were the lifeblood of
my window's overlook
i've thought of it all;
the disarming nature
of your emasculating
touch, the trembling
tops of trees and how
they'd whisper us
messages into the sky
that peerless royal blue;
were anything as benign
as the air that surrounds
you, the world would
float into the ether
as though it was
helium that filled our
lungs all along
crop circles of eddies
kissed kindly into the
neuston by immigrant
winds bring slow,
salted currents
a star overhead in its
fixture blinks with
an admiration endemic
to the space between
the peninsular part of
New York and a
desperate stretch of
land called Connecticut
either way, dancing
plumes of lights scour
the bight's surface,
as though the entire
body were held up
by paper lanterns
anchored to the shores
a few barber shop
poles stick out of the
land like tent stakes
a ferry peels back
waves with incredible
force
a saline thought
is punctuated by
a cormorant's croak
and
more than once,
the thought of you
has brushed past my
shoulder
much like a trade wind
lashings and engravings
labyrinth-like, a telling
sort of discomfort told
in Lichtenberg figures
chicken scratched into
my back like nail marks
inconsolable, it's a sad
defiance that leads my
resignation by the collar,
unmotivated, unkempt,
that lenticular beauty
softened me so
when gratitude finds
me fleshy and beaten,
rain carves meandering
wrinkles into my
naked skin, and
when i smile, it pours
i've got it in heaps,
a splintered thought
for every mile
between us, now i
find myself grateful
for even overcast days