Traveling with Crows

A Rock Through the Eye of the Needle

White wine completes fresh fish at the spa resort,

enough to take it all in, douse the fires,

chew on the stories of the sharks in the reef –

we’ll leave out the song about the rock

thrown through the passenger window

of our rental car, the tedium we met

each morning over coffee as we tried

to recover documents lost, spend less,

absorb the sense of enemy in our ribs.

It’s not the violation, exactly,

nor the stress on the phone with American Exprress

or Chase or United Mileage Plus –

it’s the world as we know it

bladders full of clean gasoline

that run us toward our destiny –

those left beside the road with empty tanks
find a rock, rejoice in the shatter

of all the glass we think we look through.

Acoustics

Up late culling metric feet as sex slices through
fiddle music fresh flowers in the wind. I've filled out
forms for house repairs, the jeweled water shooting
straight from the hot water heater, little beadlets
forming on the ceiling, rivulets disappearing into
baseboards sweetly tucked white there for all
posterity, just nailed down right.

Clicked on send.  The next phone ring will come
too early, a cold shower will be friend of the day.