Somewhere (where) in between say 
Index and middle fingers, to one day- 
Wake up and find growing a new rather 

“Look, my legs,” you point after lying on the rocks. 
By your toes, water is light yellow 
like the most beautiful mouth wash. 

Summer so histrionic, marvelous dirty days
is not genuine      it shines forth from the faces
littered with soup, cigarette butts, the heavy

Impatient as we were for all of them to join us, 
The land had not yet risen into view: gulls had swept the gray steel towers away 
So that it profited less to go searching, away over the humming earth 

The rat who came last night scratching
By the door—did you appreciate
He might be wanting to converse?

I keep a blue bottle.
Inside it an ear and a portrait.
When the night dominates

When I was little and lived on Queens Boulevard my
mother told me stories   the coffee is boiling
The soldier at left throws his grenade into the air

I remember you with your loaf of Italian bread

In your mature years after the promised farm
The photo left in your innocence of knickers

Three is to recapture isolation’s ease among the adolescents,
Slim curved and tortured body of Mississippi.
One finds sarcastic zealous presidents

I got away with it all summer will
I get away with it all fall
& more importantly winter.