A long red light
Kick the kickstand down
Lift up your legs
Form into a lotus pose
Palms out to the sun
Meditate

Green light
Kick up the kickstand
Quick turn left
Quick turn right

Into the lane
Graced by a handpainted sign:
Welcome
Noon
AA Meeting

"Do you have any smokes?"
The kid in the Afro asks me.
"No, I don't,"
I tell him.
"Ah, this sun is nice,"
says the woman with what sounds like an African accent.
"Look, Mama, I'm riding him,"
shouts the boy on the sculpture of the frog reading a book
to its spawn.
Then the front door opens
And we walk into the quiet room.

I saw a slim snake
slither and surmised that such
sparked the letter S

They said hang him high
So they cleared the woods
West of the dried up creek
And the forest
North of the blasted mill

To build a gallows
With a thousand stairs
Some said two thousand
While the master carpenter said
He lost count

So we crowded
To watch the hangman
Escort the condemned up
And we watched them
Rise and ascend

Until they disappeared into the clouds
And we waited to see the body drop
And the hangman descend
But neither appeared
Then the gallows came crashing down

And all we could find in the pile
Were boards, nails, and a noose
But the hangman, the condemned
Or any remnants of them
were nowhere to be seen

We walked underneath
Branches dancing with the wind
Yet never looked up

I pick up this book of Robert Burns poems
As my great-grandfather picked it up a hundred years ago
I put it down in exasperation
As I guess he put it down

Promising himself
As I promise myself
To give that sentimental Scot
(getting teary-eyed over a mouse)
One more chance maybe

1912
2012

The numbers swirl
As numbers can do

And I find myself
Talking to this man I never met

At a loss for small talk I just say,
“Hey, did you know I googled your surname and my middle name
And our roots are in the Isle of Wight.”

He smirked
Then took me out to his front yard
(If they had front yards back then)
Pressed his hand in the soil
Grabbed something
Hefted it
Pulled on it
And said to me,
“They’re in Texas now.”

Standing on the 10th floor
Staring through a freshly cleaned spotless picture window
At a layer of snow
Over what I remember as
A sidewalk marred with no cracks or graffiti
A lawn going crisp and brown
A street with no potholes
Invaded by a striding
Vertical pile
Of winterwear
Heavy coat scarf ski mask toboggan cap jeans hiking boots
Leather gloves
Sacks of groceries dangling
Like earrings
To preside over a night on the town