give em hell

yellow five gallon bucket
smells like pickles
the plunk of fava beans
after i pluck and drop them in

______

wrestling dried pea plants from trellis
an immense crunching
powdery mildew dusting surface of
purple shirt

______

e appreciates
my depth of presence
and i tell him
he is courageous
and there is the image of us
arm-locked
in an entire sea
of comrades

______

the possibilities
when one can see
so much of my light
(how somehow
i have not been stripped
of my desire to approach
almost everything
from love)

______

in the doorway
e tells me to
give em hell
keeps me grinning into
alleyways and sidestreets
pedaling home

______

on the way home:
a woman across the street
handwatering her semi-dried lawn
porch-hung windchimes
dangling from the eaves of a gigantic house
on the street of gigantic houses
porchpaint scraping
section by section
what i read to be a son with scraper
and a dad coming out to check the progress/lend a hand
both in white tshirts
and at first i think it’s weird
that it makes me think of métis
but seconds later i remember
how i scraped paint there
how the white was a pause in time
that we hacked away at

______

217 texts about a shuttle
turned festival of laughs

______

in lester’s handwriting
while we sit on the star-blanket
josh at his side:
do we intentionally leave out the ‘p’
in excerpt?

______

pregnancy-brain is real, people
she says at the mic
baby belly under black and white dress

______

best thing about the sideyard poetry readings:
the folks walking past on the other side of the hedge
on their way to friday-night-party
catching clips of outloud poetry
and the quick image of
a writer in the light
as they pass

______

arriving home to
words like coitus
and something else like hot dog
only slicker and
and flippant s.t.i. remarks
gut says i must retreat
and i must do it fast

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