I
the bird screams at me from a nest on a street light that he thinks he owns
II
the boy pedals by, samurai sword down shorts’ leg—cuts me with a glare
III
sidewalk’s heat drifts up and sticks in my hanging hands like I dreamed bee stings
IV
sprinkler nods a circle—a machine gun that says yes to water, grass, worms
V
grass looks at the birch, thinks “soon the birds will rest in my branches too”
VI
today a cooler breeze—the wind also imagines it’s by the ocean
VII
the sidewalks become canyons of moms and babies—they echo each other
VIII
when I came back then for my annual check up, my doctors were all dead
IX
breeze in my ear, blood in my ear, both headed somewhere else
X
every last rock every side it rests on thinks, “I’m upside down”