building our lives

the butterfly that lands
on my forearm in the potatoes in lookfarther
(butterfly, i know, because of how it rests
with wings closed)
mottled/spotted shades of brown
_______

emory holding the snakeskin lengthwise
to compare/measure it to his own height
of four-foot something
from which we determine the 5-footness
of the snake that left its skin
_______
how a grin a big-smile grin
when stan says the kale chips are so amazing
it’s the same grin-smile-grin
i wear when mo talks about
sipping on the tomato juice
(to which stan replies that he’s always got a jar
open in his room)
maybe it’s pride
but maybe it’s more like me coming around
to take some credt
maybe it’s more like letting myself believe it’s working
(meaning – we did/do this,
we are building our lives
and doing it well)
_______
ginger tea in thermos
and strawberries and quinoa for dinner
(some kind of bug unfurling its tendrils in my stomach,
in the ache in my bones)
_______

how for a second, i fumble trying
to get the trellis-weaving 
in the young tomatoes in south garden
and then
under the hot sun/windy sky
my muscle memory kicks in
_______
i wanna dance with somebody
i wanna feel the heat with somebody
trish in the barbara shirt singing
with the hoe in her hand as we
work our way up/down the beds and rows
of potatoes
_______
dandyciino chickspresso
cyn serves up three mugs
(of roasted dandelion and chickory
brewed up in the stovetop espresso maker thing)
and sets them on the porch table

_______

is it ok if i refer to someone as butch ty asks
ok by me, i respond, as long as you give me their number

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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