I couldn’t remember where I left
my coat but then I saw a woman
across the platform wearing it she was far
away Too far to truly object It does not
matter as much now My phone is full
of collected sounds from the city One
of the ragged wash of ocean against glass
One of the man above the laundromat
playing unexpected country music
on a Sunday morning One of the bus
outside the window lurching to a sudden
stop A baby passenger is on it she is crying
but then begins to laugh Listen it is different
out here sometimes you can even get
a sense of when the goats across the fields
are doing their anxious circling It is
often difficult but not too much I love
also the one where the gate clangs shut
And you are coming toward me