and God’s teeth aren’t so sharp
today
there’s a fledgling mockingbird
jumping round, fumbling innocent
on the concrete porch
a big, fat
speaking spider
is trundling up the spokes
of Melissa’s old bicycle
observing
intoning
warm wisdom
the soft cuhhhhh of a 737
ascending from Burbank airport
winks its wings
once
at me and the bird and spider
banks left, on its way out
way, way over my impossible Pacific
over that sea
over
over
over
it echoes:
get the fuck out of there
there are other backyards
and men, and women
and oceans to swim
and so so much more, everything
to taste
