Approaching

Blindly pedaled myself
home, downtown August trees
swept up dismissed leaves.

So cold that I’d rather be inside
for once, couched in my bed
with anyone, drifting off to sleep
so I knew I couldn’t
wake up alone.

I was still there
bus-ticketless
stuck.

He tells me This could be the best
summer of your life.

This Morning

Ceaseless ringing reverse
lights, trashcans, roommates
banging white light
bed covers twisted
all night
longing.

Mess of yesterday
repetition of the same
verse over and over paper
pile over bedside,
spilling out along
laundry cycles
on the floor.

I’ve got chores
to do but
my whole
body aches, and
I can still smell him
as though he never
left the night before.

Field, Shore

It shows us its backside
electrifies the hills
leading to nothing.

How does the world reflect us?

Rippling paper-thin
layer over layer. Coats
sand a shade darker, my shoes
a repository
for water’s memory.

Toppled docks
swept into the coast,
moss, still life
seaweed.

Territory spined
acidic foliage
pooling ultramarine.

Gray of sky and gray
of ocean’s bay.

The weight of my head
on his shoulder is enough.