To want the glimmer
first, then the rain.
To think this can go
on and I would be
a recipe for a cloud
come apart. Plain
view of an Ohio floodplain.
The splendor in noticing
a great loneliness I have
touched. I am preglacial.
Ride around town. Tell everyone
how nice they look. Today
is election day. We sneeze
inside gymansiums searching
displays for a future with
guns, without guns, with
-holding guns, guns that
are empty, automatic or
undisclosed. Between states
there is a tunnel built to
withstand tremors, and I
hold my breath. Wish
for what? At the bottom
of the hill, stop signs
lie in the ditch having
been dug out yesterday
for routine replacement.