that’s what I’ll name my daughter
like the budding May flowers
that bubble our blue blood
and how funny is it
that I’d ever have a daughter anyway
when everything is temporary
in the fun month of May

and would I treat her like her mother?
who is really only a sensation
a revelation that life and death
come in beautiful waves
and that none of it makes sense
and that that is the best part
so how could I ever love her like her mother
when her mother is only a seed?

and why would anyone plant a seed
to make a tree to make a leaf
if the leaf is going to fall and die?
so I shut my eyes
embrace the bright cranberry sun
penetrating my white skin lids
and feel heat and breathe
and never think about love

but where will I be in the fall
if I don’t hold onto anything now?
that’s too funny
I won’t be the same man then
I probably won’t remember writing this
so even if I find an answer to my woes
it won’t matter in the end
that’s what I learn every summer