Did you ever think you could live this long?
That the tongue which rattles the potato-burn
ridges of gum would grace the scoop of inner teeth
to say love? That love could hold your hand for twice
as long as you let it & still remain to brush teeth
together in the cool evenings —

still baffles me.

I don’t understand the scope of the breeze
the breathlessness of the garden dancing about
waving leaves like beating time to some Art Pepper
jazz number. How can there be a mountain
in the backyard? Just breathing in through the
window opposite the kitchen, just saying hello
just knocking on the door with a fresh pattering
of misty drizzles —

& the newspaper never gets wet
although it is always waiting for me
on my doormat.