the rich fighting fish finds its reflection,
like a brother’s forked electrical outlet
that sent vibrations down his asking arm.
we have it all but find ourselves unsatisfied.
we’ll change with the all-too-calm and expectant
predictions. maybe lash out at four years of track
laid out and waiting for the train, old-info lectures
and high school seniors entering to watch
me happily poke a frog with electrodes.
distance isn’t everything,
i could do this at home.
distance isn’t everything. close to home but
in a different place, a television’s news setting
streaming buildings like this sharp-arched mosque:
labeled niches like preschools or clean thrift stores.
my torn shoes rarely crouch against public places but
they’re now erratically jumbled, school acquaintances
smoothing robes. resting but prepared to pray three
more times today - off the floor, talking loudly again
and little kids running past the glass cookie trays,
coaxing servers to put more cake on their plates.
invitations and why they’re
glad to see me here, our
mayor seated two rows
before and gleaming.
not the tacked and trimmed type you’d expect,
not that i voted for him or even knew his name.
carelessness boasts itself with vigor and pride.
in concert on the waterfront, my friends went.
they’ll nip at my side for broadening my mind,
or so the rabbi says, the mullah, pastor too.
jokes and side comments,
then why we’re here today.
planned before boston but
ready to memorialize pain:
peace and prosperity unto
everyone we meet. film rolls
unloading, children holding
cookies now the cake’s gone.
they run barefoot before us
and we grin to see similarities.