Not Birds When It’s Raining!
we swam two thirds of the way across the lake lengthwise and you
were telling me your story but it was too much so we focused
on breathing we stroked along you with your mezzo-soprano lungs
and me with my frog arms and legs sliding our way with silent heads poking
always out of the water like turtles in the awkward silence of those
who don’t know how to be together quietly yet on the other side
balanced in the mud of your lips it was really just silky lake water dancing
at the corners underneath a draped tree my fingers on the bottom slowly
squeezing brushes at the corners of your smile twirls of the tongue
too much not enough
we swam back to the other
shore angling too wide but eventually landing on a fouta eating cherries
and nicoise salad along with horse tarot and cool summer tea and sure enough
I chose thirty six and you chose thirty seven a white pegasus bursting forth
from the clouds lit in violets and pinks staring straight in your eyes and bam
your decision was made full of tears you boldly jumped when lightning flashed
thunder clapped while I lay there telling you it’s okay to cry around
me no judgement but I could have at least hugged you all of a sudden
we crammed our things into bags with rain falling we ended up
under the awning of a restaurant drinking as they prodded hanging pools
of water dumping waterfalls off the sides but later the moon of course
came out and so did fantasies of dogs and letting go
all along I didn’t know my belly was marinating solely filtered water
to vomit fish then you were already in Italy and after Canada
now the hooves trample through the sky echoing reminders of magic
walk back in the dark wet with chained arms lukewarmly taking advantage
of a single night surrounded by the baggage of thousands
of dates a certain ambivalence to the results there that comes
with age with moonlight reflecting off the windows of the heart as we run
the wrong way to the train with heavy horse wings flapping