The days are getting hotter and the rains
are falling harder somewhere else. In the yard,
the grass still grows rampant, not knowing
anything about crowds crushed to death
in a stampede, or newborns suffocating in blow-
torch heat. What can one do now, given it's
impossible to look too far ahead into a future?
And yet we plan on making a trip to celebrate
a wedding, to visit the park with a giant silver bean
and water fountains. We make plans for dinner
and a show, a visit to the museum to look up
at a fossil's 67-million-year old bones. Whatever
you call it, that spirit rolls up its brightest clothes into
the luggage, leaving a bit of room for the unknown.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
