There are rocks in my shoes,
Flock of birds sparse around.
The cracks in the spruce trees,
Are homes.

Lake water, folding chairs, and nooks.
Coats, warm, wet, uncomfortable.
Panting dogs, and clocks that have hit 6
Before 5.

Taking the rage out, the lamps,
Cables tied, you.
Eucalyptus, daisies, and ***.
Your ribs,
Hanging.
And tumbling of them hit the nerves on the right foot.