imported movements, transparencies
de la historia; stained reflections in the black
mica of beer restings. in transience,
or all these transnational crossings we shake out of our pant legs
memory to drink to memory

i sit at this mica with my fled fellows
toasting to our yesterdays, reserving our right to reserve
for how many times must we run backwards?

the paddy lawyer dressed in a green alligator shirt
clean slacks; woman draped in patterns;
midwesterner standing and looking slightly up;
martinied kraut who tells me guns kill people
gets angry when I ask if we should ban knives
bats candlesticks pillows love
(it was only a questing question)

together we speak of comformities
or comforts, our own or the owners of
how many places will it take to come home?

it comes out that WWI was a family fight
the squabble of brothers and mothers, familiar alliances
anguishes that kept until anger
dally home dally home

i notice that boys always bounce light a certain way
and so do girls

who will knock a rock out of a wall
to show who’s found a rounder rock?
who will build on a shaky fence
just to share the base?
(and we can, can’t we?)

ask a traveler which direction they are going:
away or towards?

she’ll tell you
there’s always across
those transfers of fledgling flight