A road
to my house
is loud like
a seashore
cars like rolling
waves crash
at the stoplight
A road to my pen
is littered by tens
of tens of bad ideas
plugging
the vein of ink
stalling

I wish
I could see
what you see
through your eyes
Wishing to taste
what you taste
when you kiss me
How my beard feels
on your cheek How my
hair feels around your
fingers

I owned a
bumblebee marble
when young
I won marble
games with my
bumblebee
Today bumblebees
bumbled into my garden
bobbing and bumbling
and fighting with others
they resemble my
bumblebee marble
except with wings

Water
I cupped
trickles through
like icy mercury
I hold closed fingers
bringing the water to my
mouth to drink the cold it
leaps sending goosefleshe
flesh onto throat and chest.
Cold like melting snowballs
splashed onto my face leaves
chills and freshness