it's a pink morning
and only just quit raining
-- a faint milkwhite drizzle
so the sidewalks shine
with the sun's slanting rays
and the grass is all so vivid

my face and chest are warming
where the halation light spackles me
thru the branches of the
cottonwood tree i'm reclined against
-- my spine matches it notch for notch
the air is thickly humid and leans on me
thru the hazy light and the quietude burns
my conscience clean

i sit still and pious letting my ribcage
expand and deflate gently in the slow seep of dawn
i sit and listen to the earth wake up
i do not disturb the red spider on the geranium leaf or
the softly purring girl who shared
her dreams last night with me
i only catch a sloping breeze as it twists
across the parking lot

the first intimations of her waking are feline
-- the kneading grip of her sharp fingernails
on my thigh, the arch in her back as she rises
out of the sleeping bag into the alkaline brightness
to let her nose brush against my cheek and put
a sweet and overripe morning breath kiss on
the corner of my mouth

i wonder what kind of bird that is
singing tentatively over there
i wonder where my cigarettes are
and if there's any cash left in my sock
i wonder also what her name is
and then it all comes back to me
and with the bird i'm humming
the opening melody
of Cassidy