san diego interlude

.

i.
the hat becomes you
a present for your rippling locks
(between us we could stuff a duvet)
poet-clown
fragile child still chasing wonder
as a firefly out of reach

ii.
the night air glowed i think
though the mosquitoes
bit my midriff as we rocked
(to and fro)
in your magic courtyard's swing
(was there a moon? i don't remember)

iii.
i was the alkie
you the King of Bong
and in our stupor traced
and retraced our common lives
lives apart, though oddly intertwined
these many months

iv.
"oeuf, chapeau, non, fromage—
those are all the words you need."
egg, hat, no, cheese
we tumbled, laughing
non—there was no need
for other words at all
and as we slipped from the unlit hallway
into the open air
you softly shut the door

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