sometimes

I sleep in the bed of a man who digs trenches in the earth to grow spinach and radishes and corn.
He says that he'll be patient with me and so I can continue to play with his tiny cats. The summer feels dreamy like it always does, like waking up after a long sleep.


I Guess You Don't

It's the way that you look sometimes,
'I'll roll a cigarette and tell you about the best friend I've ever had'
and then you don't.

The look that says 'I'll tell you
about the first night together, the first snowy morning of the season,
the way snow piles up on branches and
a clear, long drive home after.'

You and your Jerusalem artichokes, your horseradishes
and all the Bleeding Hearts. Don't you know
how to hold anything back?