on a telephone wire
waiting for things
to make sense below
I run with a swollen knee
at forty and pushing off asphalt
(28 marathons later
and none the wiser or richer)
'Dietro Casa' is playing
Behind the house
is where the best of them
grow love
I envy the birds
I envy their altitude
I envy their patience
I envy everything else
I cannot reach
from my marriage
to unforgiving ground
Someone is playing the piano
Someone is playing a cello
too many houses away
Water runs its rivers home
while I undercook the pasta
The birds know better
The birds align themselves
as sentences in the sky
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