Across the Country
Press the mud Beneath your fondling fingers. Push the brush across To trail a maze, Moonlight above The sudden city. Poetry, It breathes without the blood. It cannot Set this scene, Her hair in tides against your shoulder Or between the window and you. When luck's in love, Her face now facing you, Her smiles always noncommittal But occasionally, Something slips From narrow eyes And you're aware You're sharing a secret Like a holy hot Croissant in winter transit shelters. Inside the bus Within the gentle metal growl, Beside the greying pastures Letting loose their solid lines, She smells of pastries Glazed. Her heat, The blanket heart of everything. - 5/27/26