does it help that I called you on your birthday
yes
that is a ‘yes’
but below that tidal crest of astonishment
that it is only accidents which provide me with
my shine
not anything I do
and I let go of the designs of things
moving backward through understanding
into confusion again
I wanted to speak to you, and there, I have
but that’s not ornate enough
for my mood
I’m thinking of you
putting your game face on
to send me a chapbook
what is a book but a tree
given speech
what is a friend but my heart
given another home