on hayes street american bodies eat chips of a perfect distillation,
a lack of exhilaration.

why did we college.
why do we pile dish sinks and sunglasses,
motorcade traffics. signals.

spread out I think.

hours alone are hours new.

would you make me a list of your favorite things.

ripples form for their own enactment.

once someone is president, they keep the address,
hello mr. president.

when the chorus kicks in I will start a new tradition,

hello lover.

hello fragment.

why do we morning just to release the afternoon.

if garden, then I will bring you strange trees—

windmill branches to clear out the swarms.
leaves with eyes that weep to water themselves.
vapor roots to hide the lodestar.
satellite twigs to light the gloaming.
word seeds, for birds on their first migration,
so that they may find you.