It pains me to see an old woman fret over
A few small coins outside a grocery store—

Moving as a mind moves across a math problem,
Or an eye across a lover’s body,
Or a dragonfly across the sky,

As if in answer to a primordial urge,
I longed for something
to which to

& the moon and all stars
you can name
are fantastic!

Everything’s a couple sizes bigger: a sky
Cutting deep into the streets, hydrants
As hefty as the heads of oxen, the country’s flag

Outside the funeral of the politician who died young
I waited for you. Rolled in my hand like a baton

were tissues from the mourners inside

Perpetual peace. Perpetual light.
From a distance it all seems graffiti.
Gold on gold. Iridescent, torqued phosphors.

When, thanks to the virtues of wine,
I let go of solid memory and a certain pleasure
seems almost real to me

Isn’t it amazing that one evening
sliding the bread into its paper sack
I start all over with the same old speech,

Oh really, she’s with somebody?
So she’s with somebody.
Is she really with somebody?