in the past few minutes,
each one with more clarity
and righteous cause than this
diluted day, shh it's not over
yet.
In one there were elevators
that sped sideways; another,
trapped elephants chasing
each other for eternity;
Soaked ankle bracelets
drawing the vulnerable eye;
a band of boys with too much
in common and they are worse off,
too much to share with a glance;
Miles of tents with smoke rising
out of their skylight roofs;
Not to mention the last
morning sky of summer,
quiet and motionless
and what everyone had built
it up to be.
And in each one there was you,
with your hair streaming
like auburn rays across
the mint morning fields,
with the anger obliterating
look that reverses months, asking:
"My dear, what ever is the matter?"
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