tarp-wrapped / night-roosting

 i set myself on the
four-mile course
running along the river’s
fog-gathered valley
_______

the woman who shows me to the
cotton jersey fabrics
compliemnts me on my shiny
rainbowheart-on-black-background tights

and i kid’s-section confess/reveal to her
(all the best clothes i say
are in the kids department)
hours later a man on sixth
wheeling his bike past as i do the
public-transportation wait
says i like your hearts
and i say thank you
chocolatemint cookie crumbs
on my mouth

_______

wherein a man mistakes
my pita-snacking for
cigarette-smoking and reveals
he was about 
to ask to bum one from me

_______

another version of home:
book-browsing in the aisle
amongst the water/ecology shelves
_______

eye contact with blanket-wrapped man
on downtown building stoop
and just like those night-rides pedaling home,
encountering pods of sleepers
tarp-wrapped under the knot of
interstate bridges
tonight i cast blessings out upon
their waves of dreams
_______

gold wrapper on red brick
shining with a slight jitter in the wind
at 6th and morrison
while the whir/whine/hum of
max trains approaches and recedes
_______

pigeons who reveal themselves
only if you look up
silent and night-roosting in
leafless branches
above streetcar wires
_______

gliding past alibi’s
blinking lights which harken
a remembering:
cayenne against brick wall
and against me
_______
like a hammock i describe the moon
into the receiver as i walk curving park paths
under its cloud-hazed glow
good for holding

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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