of trainwrecking

in the dream:

“have you/
wanted/thought about having/
had a child/
at all?
i
had a child
once” – written on the back of a photo jenny was giving me
as part of a sharing/revealing of personal things
in a getting-to-know-each-other-deeper question asking effort

she also shares this:  i am on the edge of trainwrecking (or feel like i am) most of the time
and i ask how that is for her, or how it manifests in her days/life.

she makes a fish analogy/joke i don’t understand
we are in a swimming pool in bathing suits
and she says something about being wet/slimy
so i move closer and  it is warm, learning, familiar, connecting.

she shows me a bed that looks almost exactly like the beds my sisters and i had in childhood – same wihite with bronze/gold, but mebbe slightly different design in headboard/footboard) and explains how it is a symbol of starting over and landing in thee new version of herself that i am now getting to meet/know
_______
rumble and rattle of machines digging up the road

(returning gravel to dust)
in order to lay the bright orange fiber optic cable and i wonder
if it wasn’t promising to bring us
faster internet if we might
put up more of a fuss
_______
the thunk thunk thunk accompanied

by the sound of my inhales/exhales
under the sun with gloves on as i
work my way down a row of tomatoes
lifting the weight of the pounder over me
to drop it again and again on each Tpost
until it has dug deep enough into the ground
to stay for a while
_______

weaver i say
to moe trellising the tomatoes
(who says she is
proud of these plants who
for quite a while in all that sitting water looked
like they might not make it though i
never took it that far)
_______
the taste of the first green bean harvest
sauteed in piles of first-harvest garlic
delicacy/delicious
_______
ashby on the ground at my side
and i paused as dusk hits on the back road
listening to a bird sound i don’t recognize and
following the flight of a creature to find
it, silhoutte only, perched above me
how i stand under
for as long as it perches over
to take it in
owl shaped and small
northern whet saw is what i guess
but rachel k says they don’t live here
in the summer
_______

the train shirt
from the san diego collection
(gifted to me from sledge)
that i never brought myself to wear
because it was a smidge too tight
now, perfect, on emory

from the water world:
53FAD44B-31CB-402C-9EB5-1073052BF120_w974_n_s

A man pushes a tub carrying children in a flooded area in Duchang, Jiangxi Province, China. – voice of america, day in photos

CFC3F103-606A-460D-907D-5BCC3EE701E3_w974_n_s

A boy puts out a fire at a residential area in suburban Quezon city, north of Manila, Philippines. The fire gutted about 300 houses and left at least 600 families homeless, said a fire officer. – voice of america, day in photos

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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