Part Of Things

Friends talking at an outside table
where the road is within earshot
and the passing cars salute them
with their presence and remind
them where they’re going
after dinner.
I think about it all the time
the corner streets where
I could walk if I was blind
and spun around three times
to test if I was joking.
She talks about penguins
and the dogs that we have trained
to keep them living and the ice wolves
far away.
Then I go on about my stupid day
and how I keep on taking measures
to be miserable when I could just let go
and save myself the trouble.
We drink the bitter beer
and walk until we finally hear
the music of the streetlights
and the subtle ways electricity
spins inside the perfect glass.
The fountain rim is a place
for conversations had in all directions
everywhere and always all together.
I am tethered to her anywhere
because she knows just how
easily I scare when I’m alone
out there twisting in the winds
of any party I wish I hadn’t
been invited to.
I’d go anywhere with you
I say over the ending of the day
which comes alive with all the
singing voices of the people
out of work for just this hour.
I’m a coward when it comes
time to be a part of things
and so I try to put it off
until the last minutes
all close in on us
and the sky becomes
the same shade
as the rust.

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