aprilily

there are little pink flowers
on a tree.
and there are leaves so bright
they're yellow
and in shapes of hearts
like new spring love.

magnolia branches droop
but birches bloom
and kids are playing soccer
across the street.

shadows are in the crevices
in the foothills
and it's almost dusk.

i breathe in through the filter
and it is good.
the Times is in the driveway.
i am barefoot.

this is a small town
and green.
not green like you'd want
me to say, but green.

the parents come home now
after a long day
to daddy screams and
little sticky kisses.

tomorrow they'll leave again
before i wake up.
but that is then. and we all hope
to live in the infinite now.

more tiny buds are trying to
burst
and lemons are falling from the
one in the front yard.

scrolled wrought iron gates clink
and mommy comes in the
front door. and i'll light another.
why not?

i think of the guy in the bar last
week who did not take me seriously
when i said "i am a poet"
but why not?

"one to one" the kids yell
they are keeping score.
the trucks
the family car
the water guns
and cones marking goals.
skateboards for eight year olds.
summer excitement for soon.

soon.

people always tell me soon.
i am sober.
today.
and that is good.

i think about trips.
for soon. soon. soon.

soon.