our ocean crossing

transplanting kale and broccoli
how we bury the brassica starts
up to the crotch
after tossing handfuls
of compost into inverse mulch nests


trifecta convergence in dancing rabbit parking lot:
trish rolls up in ruthie
with a box of bees and
copies of zines
steps out for a hug as joe arrives
in maroon truck
while i pedal clyde to bike rack


bike ride as warm up
i run to train bridge and back
exceeding original route
by six minutes
(which feel like victory)

post-run pond swim
i glide in and
em and i cut across water
from beach to dock and back again
and i in my english accent announce our
atlantic, specifically


post dinner knuckle tatt game
smell of sharpie on our hands
tatts include but are not limited to:
sick foxx
late dngr
true nose

i want to be just like you
when i grow up she says
from the drivers seat on
the highway not far from
the canyon where cell service drops

a heron tyler calls out
from the drivers seat
to us in truck back
who all glance west
to follow his discovering/gaze
wet-assed we howl
at lightning
scraggles in north sky
while huddling
in truckbed
moving through the start
of a storm
rain wetting our hair
our clothes
our faces

jar of dried pears open
on butcher block
how we turn out whitehouse lights and
hangout in slow-strobe
glimpses of each other
and the kitchen
momentarily illuminated
dead things:
squashed small snake on d.r. drive
frog/toad pressed into gravel
on underpass road


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