The children
are with Liz
The quiet yard is me.
Cold beer sans
hammock when
a bunny,
brown,
little, from
a shrubbery comes out.
Little girl's
got something to say to me.
Dog doesn't like it.
Shut up dog.
She stays,
as if she's bored or something.
I have another beer
day withers.
The starfield
superimposed on you.
—a blanket over
your shiny wet eyes.
I can hear
the gulls far off, flying.
The starfield's me.
Cars outside, cars
on the driveway.
The dog's inside.
"Sounds, move away from me!"
Liz phones
from the road.
She asks me; "Are we out of things?"
I'm not sure.
I say "Mom called
this morning."
She'll say; "I know
she just called me."
I go outside, I
bring the computer,
I set it in the grass
I look around.
No bunny.
Camden, from the screen door
hollers
tepidly.
Shut up dog.
I get a text
from Cy,
he's upstairs.
