Get Gone

The oyster flats
So expansive, oiled and marly
Glistening like fortified milk
Your tall glass
With no fingerprints or chips
Holding all the weight of its contents
Like it is supposed to
Then flags in your maps
Leaving holes
After remembering an airport
Or a library book
Your festival
So timid on the street
Tempest in the alley
Balconies all a-clatter
Your small city
A model of cardboard and plastic
Set upon a table
With biscuits and pinwheels
Carrots, cucumbers, assorted meats
Then again you leave open
All shutters and shades
Clapboard creaking
And a long summer ahead
Maybe you read about flights
LA to Maui
There is paddle-boarding
And half-shell platters
But also children with cheap shoes
And a boulevard with lights
Like staples in a long manuscript
You dive under
For fibre feeling
All the soft fingers
Rising to meet you
Your rent check is late
So is your period
--
5.7.13

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