Looking out over hazy London rooftops
that remind me of flying nannies
with bright lipstick and stern shoes
giving solace in the land where
my amicable ancestors stalk
abroad, yet, you . . .

Those relentless church bells
chiming interruptions
into our little red phone booth
conversation, a separation,
a sign for me to stop talking
as loud as they were
I didn’t know how to listen then

For five years our locket necklace
would be left undone
an antique globe in faded taupe and turquoise
spin it to the right
another part of the world, a ten hour flight
but half a decades time, then double dimes

Another rooftop view
a sage colored loft with angled ceilings
and ocean-scented air
California the land of the fair
with honey-covered hills of hay out window squares
and you and me there
our hair mixed together on the pillow