to relieve my hope
I sleep with open hands
waiting for rain
not the fleece
of the enumerated flock

remember?
our air was not
gasped
but savored.
even that truck’s lift gate
sounded like Miles’ muted trumpet

no excuse
just the softness of your breathing
between the down
the laughter that spilled
from dark green bottles uncorked.

language led to sign-language
sonar and clumsy semaphore
hell.
we came from Navy town
the least we could do is fight rust

in the end
we forgot how

how to, how much, how long

taking lady liberties
by strategic posture
misguided by crossed passions
that we served up
from paper cups

I wait for the rain
effortless and honest
whispering dryly
through thin wispy lips
stories of that which was lost

2/28/08