1
Moving your photo, from one kitchen to another, brought me to tears.
2
The sky was a brilliant cloudless blue.
I waited for the cook to empty two large pots of used grease.
He gave me five empty boxes.
3
There is a young drug addict living down the alley.
He is thin, wounds on his face, dirty clothes.
His eyes glaucous, absinthe.
4
Fog blurs the bridge.
Traffic .
The snuffling of an animal.
5
Days best one another.
This one has its points.
For instance,
the smile of the woman at the recycling center,
where we lifted and pushed my old stove into a bin.
Or
Tony and I
remembering our lives in San Francisco, over
coffee and blueberry pie.
Moving your photo, from one kitchen to another, brought me to tears.
2
The sky was a brilliant cloudless blue.
I waited for the cook to empty two large pots of used grease.
He gave me five empty boxes.
3
There is a young drug addict living down the alley.
He is thin, wounds on his face, dirty clothes.
His eyes glaucous, absinthe.
4
Fog blurs the bridge.
Traffic .
The snuffling of an animal.
5
Days best one another.
This one has its points.
For instance,
the smile of the woman at the recycling center,
where we lifted and pushed my old stove into a bin.
Or
Tony and I
remembering our lives in San Francisco, over
coffee and blueberry pie.
