the summer storm
swept in from the south
with winds whipping
trees to fury;
a duck’s hiss of hail
pummeling us to safety

what unexpected luck
to find the greyed lean-to
in the middle of the wood
your hair a mess of wet
stuck to your forehead,
your t-shirt clinging
like the old flame
I would soon become

& isn’t it just
like a storm
to suck the air
out of an unwalled
room & leave
you panting &
wanting more than
anyone can give

sometimes a goose
is just a goose
but sometimes
it’s a murderbot
so don’t stop
the car, gary

it’s never what
you think it is
but thank god
it isn’t what you
thought it wasn’t

outbound plane:
heat waves on tarmac
propel empty promises

the squirrels
or maybe chipmunks
because squirrels
get blamed for
everything so
let’s not jump
to conclusions
but anyway
something dug
up the tulip bulbs
& gnawed them
to bits so sorry
about that

sleep arrives
on a metro bus
belching passengers
on to sidewalks
filled with street
vendors hawking
diet advice & cheap
seen-on-TV products
& maybe that’s why
I woke up in the
night to pee on
the corner fern;
forgive me, I was
distracted by the
shiny Rolexes

the wasp
writhed wet
smears on
the deck,
its nest
a pulp
dot mashed
beneath my
birkenstock—
let me go
as fast
& unexpected,
a flash or
gasp before
oblivion