Like Wildflowers

or returning home

or finding socks in the bed:

you come to me in all the wrong moments.

Tonight I find you in a parking lot

walking home from the train station

a forest;

weeds peeking past pavement

[This burough so full of

accidental gardens]

and stop to investigate.

Through bent chicken wire,

black shapes twining and

looping in the dark; swaying

billows of grass.

I squint my eyes

to make out a

sooty feline crouched

as if blooming

between the Dandelions

and Queen Ann's Lace;

eyes like red beams and

slip under I

dig my knees into the dirt,

finding a sudden urge to hold

I wade through towards a clearing and

you

I find you there instead

limbs splayed.

Together

we stuff lightning bugs into our mouths

by the handful;

we eat them like peanuts.

Busy Signal

buttons, jammed

your telephone is

that where you've gone?

Mending and un-mending,

finally, I clip the seams.

I find myself somewere else

the machine reads:

Game Over, and then

puts another coin in

one hand on my--

We've stopped discovering eachother!

I want to scream,

but the reciever melts like cream cheese.

Come home to find

the cat is sleeping on your jeans;

the headline reads:

Saddest Movie Ever.

My mother made her

scrub the tiles white, teeth white,

hands and knees.

Not everything is worth sharing