splash of red

michael, who’s nearly the same size as me
insists on lifting the very non-portable
underwood typewriter
(beige/brown metal with
green/beige plastic keys)
into the truck
for transporting to casita #3
what i guess to be a woodpecker
based on it’s longish sharp bill
the splash of red
and speckled feathers
lands ten feet from me perched
on the internet bench
where i statue as best i can
in the name of getting a close look
partner in crime mara says of our
wool festival adventuring
as we stand in view of the yellowing
the gold coins of aspen leaves
flickering in the sun
wherein i stare at the sun-golding wall for hours
missing my missouri friends
and all the fields of cane they’ve
bled and sweated and laughed in
(haaaay mica!)
manuel and i laughing about
suntanning (fully dressed in jeans and a sweater)
in a patch of porch-fallen sun


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