Fides

It’s a good life. Remember?

The smells, the stairs? Remember the boys,

their scent, their sound? Under their clamor,

joy scrambles. In silence, there is the cool floor;

shadow across the black, black iris. When it rained, the wet leaves shook their coats too,

remember? Scent of the quaking mole below, in bright heaven the

chattering squirrel. Each season, the one coming, the one going,

all good, very good. The man’s voice, the woman’s voice;

the forbidden places to sleep deep sleep

shaken by vivid dreams and the lovey stretch.

The bad things to chew, so delicious, such tasty

transgression; the perfumed garbage, the fierceness

upon danger, the whole body patrolling, remember? Triumph, then hands up

and down the spine, so delicious.

The idle fingers on the head, the secret rub under the

coffee table. The coffee! Smells everywhere. The wind,

was good. Go again. Flying over the sparked lawn,

no new day, no old day, but this one, everlasting.