The clatter of dog paws
on a wrought iron gate
thunders a newness,
that something is coming.

I think that it's friendly.
I think it's been paid for.
A storming of something
that's coming for me.

The hearts
we lick
and bite
and savor
sometimes
disagree
with us.

There are parts
of women's dresses
that have
earned
specific
names.

I'd like to learn them,
apologize,
give thanks.

Whenever
I'm around you,
I get greedy,
start planning
three-day weekends.

a minute ago,
maybe ten,
maybe twenty,
i remember being
unimpressed
by the star shape
in those bricks.

now,
no matter which leg
i stand on,
the tilt i try,
i can't see it anymore,
wonder where it's gone.

"i think i remember
the first time,
i was maybe ten.
in a football stadium,
i remained seated
in a stampede of joy,
felt me sinking lower
lower and lower,
beneath healthier
hooves..."

the hours pass like clouds
on some other higher plane,
far from me
but big enough to see.

and the sunlight performs
its slow surgery
slicing my toes,
before moving upward,
on to more vital, failing
things,
before flashing its badge
and clocking out.

and i start again,
"i think i remember
the first time,
i was maybe ten....."