Lets toss the ball
on the lawn
in the declining light.
And  
through the open
window,
the record plays
errol garner
on the turntable.
Lets slowly make
our way, to the
beach, after
drifting through an
uncharted night.
I don’t see any reason
to pretend, at all,
that somehow anything
should change
this rolling life, once
unshorn, once the
pain of wishing
for more and wanting
to be the same is
eventually gone.
Lets walk home
in the closing duskiness
and under the
china light, hold on
and like a listing tree
and the moon above
our roof,
all wait and
imagine the world
to begin
to right itself.