I sit next to a box of mangoesknowing very wellit might be the last.
It IS the last.
Now all that remainsof the box,of summer,is the aroma—a scent you can almosteat.
tip toptip toptip top
goes the tin roof
and we wheel aroundto seeifit is raining
Morning is a child.You are a childin the morning.—×—
Afternoon comes,as it will,as it will.You come in the afternoon.—×—
Head.
1987 original,slightly used.
A little rougharound the edges.
A little scarabove the forehead.Negligible internal damage.
We come fromthe sea, fromthe fish
so we need to cryevery now and then
so that the salt watercan open
If you listen deeply,life's nothing buta conversation.
We, all day.The crickets, all night.The birds, somewhere in between.
Thirsty little sapling,
I thinkyou may havea drinking problem.
You have beenguzzling waterlike it is beer