I pass you everything
in the cupboard
let the cans down
one by one their matter
puddling where the wainscot
is fading its tan
how much time have we got
left on this lamina
footwork balancing
a double decker night
bus that clicks by its largesse
never signaling specific
kingdom or vagrancy
to me
it was just a fledgling
way to get home
with family then a switch
to the minibus
no buttons so you had
to shout your stop in second
language stalled
mute I would wait
for someone else
to yell theirs whatever
was next and walk the excess
is what my legs would say
on pinning the difference
between wishing and walking
it was fine
marine theater with siltstone
padding
I think we are lambkin
and coyotes downtown scuttle
bold flowers twist
over to rummage at dark
and anywhere but time
tells us how to stencil
do I know you or gnaw
your inbox every shelf
can barely stay
its own canister.