Alone on the pedestrian bypass bridge,
breathing summer sunset,
I swirl the stubby balsa spoon on my tongue
as the evening commute buzzes beneath my feet,
and wonder: how did I miss this all before?
how
wind washes bare arms,
world still
soft round
the sharp edges;
how ivy lush covers thickly the brick walls over,
and brazen broad-leafed bushes
crowd onto cobblestone street corners, and
wistful weeds cushion cement sidewalk cracks;
how when the sun’s rays are blades from the horizon,
our city lights twinkle tight but
tap dance so light on the retina
in the vignetted
sky of creamsicles and cotton candy;
and how
the frozen chocolate chips
break brittle between my teeth
and the cookie-dough bite’s so smooth
and still so tooth-melting sweet
