The garden is muddy.
Without me
gravity keeps the earth
in orbit around the sun;
waves break on Oregon's shores,
a million or more wildebeest
migrate across the Serengeti,
forty years
thirty-six moves
four states
surely it was you
I was not dreaming
you
in my room
in my bed
between my legs
it was your neck
your chin
your jaw line
I'm sobbing
Why buy a beer?
I can no more turn around
