fellowship of fellows

mike brown
is still dead and
darren wilson
is still free
and ferguson
a metaphor for what’s inside of us
still burns


natacha and i talk
through cracked-open desk window
(her outside, me in)
and i want to make a joke
about a drive through


pointing to the empty chair
at the round table
i say helene is with us


the skitter of a rhinestone button
(throws rainbows in sunlight)
across the floor
as i pull the cardigan (buttoned)
on over my head


luminaria lined up
licking warm light
into the well of night


after a report on being on high alert
it doesn’t take long
for the evening’s joke
(about a drug called lert)
to form itself
and has us laughing in the night
as we head north on paseo

sounds like a dr. suess word
snerts doing lert i say


bubbly water
in globe-shaped
wine glass
while candles flicker
light onto off-white walls


how hard we (fellowship of fellows) laugh
in mara’s red-carpeted living room
as tom reads
and how hard
the silences land
after that


light moves through
blown-out black velvet
tacked to wall
10 feet tall
fabric kinetic
what we find
in the shadow


under the adobe arch
i thank mara
for reaching through my antagonism/ambivalence
about this day


sky burned out
stars glinting through

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