Junkyard weeds

have flowered

purple, yellow, red


Children observe

our thundering progress

to our desks


No wind:

sheets and shirts

lifeless on the line


A man bends

with reverence into

the jaws of his car


Pigeons nest

inside the burned-out



Holding a stone—

which of us

angers him?


The wind ripples

the grass, the way a cat’s fur



Lovers, shoulder

to shoulder, share a secret

or a kiss


Brown leaves

cover the field

in all directions


A dog chases

the train. And if

he catches us?


Bright-lit windows:

the eyes

of dark houses


A hawk glides

across the moon.

Mice, look out!


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