RAIN DELAY

So the game's been postponed due to rain. Verlander pitched
one inning, and the score is tied 1 all. Not that I'm inflexible
but the evening had good baseball in it. Now what?

That rain's in New York but it rained here today, though not
that much. It mostly just stayed damp and cold and the wind
blew like fucking crazy. I have a small wicker table on my
porch and I found it in the bay, in the water, half sunk, two
egrets nearby. It's not hot though--glory to God.

To anyone who might be interested, I recommend Jim Ray
Daniels's (the poet Jim Daniels) book of short stories, Trigger
Man. Supposedly about Detroit but it could be Cleveland, etc.
He's one hell of a prose writer.

ICE COLD

The Tigers will (hopefully) win the World Series,
the Detroit Lions are 3-0 (along with Green Bay, and
Buffalo!) the egret fought back against the
heron today, I've got The Boomtown Rats blasting.

Plus, I fed the red fox some chicken today--its tail
is longer than its body. I had to place the meat in
a little pile and get back up on my porch.

It's autumn.

THE SCHEDULE

Shit's all over the floor in the sparkling kitchen.
No one knows why. It would be beautiful if it weren't

so ordinary. They hosed off the naked bodies.
It was number three on the list of ways to feel.

A ladybug crawls out of the one opened vein.
"Wake up now," and the spider eggs shivered,

little broken paths running smoothly out to the water.
For a few minutes, once they left her alone, she

could watch the geese gather. They were panting, arranged
in a V, staring toward a man dressed as the state of Florida,

some ghost with his license suspended for a DUI. There was
a stench, sure, and many cases of Lysol, many cases

of file folders. "Oh!" she said, because she'd forgotten
she was actually safe. A rotating fan blew over her skin

and she could imagine she was young and beautiful, and
she could raise her arms over her head, and weep.