honeydunce

My porch faces the line of houses across the street. It goes house–space–house. I am in front of a nice trailer, built on its own little plot with a fenced in yard and address post. Owned by the residents on the left. The short stature creates a perfect rectangle of open sky for my viewing pleasure. Today we have blue sky and cumulus clouds. This, the sunshine, things in general–I’m sitting surrounded by bliss. So in honor of the simplicity on a Saturday, I wrote this:

Beyond a matter of having and
Not so much time, no not that stutterfly vagabond,
That sleep walking doomhoney;
More than just the missing
Perhaps the outro bleeding into the next number
A live music dialogue of clinked glass and sky of wires

This I call the bit of sun mapped out on a porch,
The cook’s jean patch of duct tape
Replacing side stitch and peeling;
My blue door of tan house
My open windows drive by driver
Radio on sings along with feeling;
The buildings I have not been in
The birds above ignoring us

I own the pockets in forgetful for you
With this adore your presence
Nod to it like I know
Whatever knowing means—
Listen can I be around you better
What do I owe for this alive, not life—
Little things you have been so good to me
So more than I can handle, so tragically sweet
How I would not exchange you for anything