ninety-four

i am so
very
tired

what is this?
this thing inside me that says
go
go, as soon as you can
don't ever turn around

this isn't about you

at least
when my window's open
i can hear the singing

class five

evening sky cool
i watch from the window
man and boy kick a ball
he taps it gently, lovingly
familiar sport that births itself again
everytime he grabs the ball for
a quick game
boy in joyful awe
trying new skills he's learned
ball escaping, bounces off fence and car
he chases it, twisting, feet dancing
face of consternation
and in his mind there's a crowd cheering
as he scores the winning goal
fall setting in, he's back at school now
but knows nothing until that
asphalt parking lot, life beginning with
the ball

class four

white sill
paint cracking, debris of years and weather
sun bleached and glowing
opened wide to the world

nudged between shelves and sky
one foot finds the other, pushing spiderwebs
tearing noiselessly
the wind moves through, around me
prayer flags dancing
rooftops, powerlines
blue of sky like deep water, open mouthed
cradling scene

back inside, the wood ceiling looks like
a home i've never been to
barn raisings but knowledge
feet casting shadows on yellowed wood
(were those knobs branches once?)

the glass pane filters light softly
glare of lights reflecting
a bug crawls, frantically trying to escape
the inside that looks like out

on the floor there are squares of light
stretching over a plum rug and worn floor
new and old, coffee and neglect
this is the sort of place i'd want to call mine
if the world outside weren't calling me elsewhere

a child, imploring redundantly
"c'i have one? c'i have one?"
even in solitude, life keeps moving
reminding us it's always there
stop--
take a picture.

smell of burnt pumpkin seeds
laughter, a dog's eyes meet mine
child's voice and answers swelling
see his hands move and eyes widen
you can't see him but you know

class three

your face looks cold and distant and
i wanted to reach out, walk over
smooth your forehead and know
that we'll both become something more than
what i thought was finished
are you tired? your feet spread in comfort
but you look so bored with it
nothing changes, the spectacle is all a meaningless
circus.
do you know i'm writing a poem
about you?
at least now, when it still seems you
don't see me
i'm comforted by my privacy
i wouldn't want you to know.
the trees still make me feel like
breathing
deeply.

class two

sharp lines through window
light on her hair in softest
gold. red heel, strong hands.

palm alive on
heated glass
strong but clear
when is it there?
when does it disappear?

class one

sky.
sky blue, clouds white,
stretching out out onward
kisses the horizon
in a haze
sky meets the end of the world
ships' lights all sparkling

you, in the foreground.

you and bronze skin,
crazy hair and smile
you tried to carry me over the waves
and i laughed like a little girl

driving home that night
it didn't even feel real
because you were so close and i couldn't even believe it
i just wanted to look at you
and know that you're mine
and so absolutely your own
that's what makes it so important

walking along
toes in the sand
i can reach out to you whenever i want
you told me i was beautiful but i think
that we are
so
beautiful
us in all of our comfort and mystery

you're still there
you're still right here
and me too, and me too
and us
for a long time