Our seventh date spills out, glorious!
We will dine with all New York
dashed against the sky,
eat big amidst the ambience
Scented with African Bird Peppers
and leaning in to a third afternoon, first month
of a recluse year, my neighbor looks on wistful
as an overweight high school girl.
Only I know how my heart feels,
to lose from the beginning
and gain slowly, to give away
with both hands.
Fallen dirty drunk onto a Greyhound bus,
a traveler stares into the conch shell
of a winter night and is is taken into
the hands of the deaf moon.
The white ash of day burns down,
dusk seeps across the Arabian Sea,
Mumbai shuts down before my eyes.
Scholarly bees who attend college and graduate with high marks
go to dewy clover fields wet enough to prevent a scalded mouth,
dull bees are sent to Cleveland, to my house, and others nearby
where the gardens are limp green, plants like washed dollar bills
I have quiet, nonchalant foibles
my Chinese wife doesn't like.
I walk around with
Rain streaks the casino windows
clean as a yellow tiger.
The croupier totals up
They walk out of magazines
and radio speakers, children
from Darfur's solemn bush,
little herons of the desert,