sycamore smokes

blast sugar  

                     land      past

sycamore

tree lining                   in river rows

                                     (how did they get in her backyard)

dining

          re-aligning 

not knowing

but avoiding

church boulevards

empty 

                street signs

looking glass past

sun without glasses

(how many wrinkles crease her storybook eyes?)

i thought

whoa-horse--made it strong.

past the next breath

empty

universal moment 

in between  (in between breathing 

                               lost jack russell on the corner)

white front engines

came upon               smiling

pure                                      teeth

knowing 

               hand-hi-ing

--i laughed madly

like (your bike later)

                               she said,

where does she live?

i pointed to the house

without looking

               where 3 black coats lit

night time smokes

and i thought,

everywhere

(every

where?)