116

They're right over the wall

With my eyes closed I'd think
I could grab their hands,
be pulled up to surface
into the clamor of Sunday afternoon

Up, where the walls are miles of mountains
but without a gate to be guarded
by the boy who lives downstairs
and always holds the door

115

I keep drawing the time
when you lived two towns away
and would sometimes put your window down
when you caught me walking to work.

The picture keeps changing
to tell me that it mattered.

114

Nobody walked in the city today
Tinted windows rolled by
on the usual cars
and dark apartments slept
stories high

As I lead a parade down the musky main road
creatures dance all around me
shaking tree branches
making leaves rain on my shoulders

But I can hear my breath
coming from the sky
whispering into the windows
of the empty cafe crosstown

113

Somehow I know how your hand would feel-
the same way the moon would look up close
It reaches through my window
and spreads out across the walls

112

When you stared at the spot
on the wall behind me
and told it you were leaving here
because you wanted to,
I thought you meant now.

But I still see your little car
parked in your driveway
on the way to work each day-

It never occurred to you
that I'd look for it there?
Then I don't want to change your mind.

Still, I hold my breath
as I turn onto your street.

111

The sky was so beautiful today
when I said to you what I say to me
every hour I'm awake.

You, who I was important to.

But even you looked up
at the sun outlining the clouds
before getting into your car
and backing out onto the road.

110

Walk with my down the old railroad tracks
deep in the now useless woods,
through the crowds of statues I've been building all along
of the bank teller when I was young,
and the lady in the elevator who won't look at me,
and my mother and my father ,
and the teacher who once called home.
Cold and quiet, they watch us solemnly.

109

Hundreds of birds create a symphony
rocking back and forth above our heads
as newspaper pages lie on the street
and the trees are frozen still

108

You look old and happy
Where've you been so long?

Throw your keys on the table
and kick off your shoes

Don't be startled when you see
I've cleaned out the basement

107

I lived well across the world
where I was awake while you were asleep
and always knew exactly where you were
on your bed, pushed against the wall
where you once showed me your collection
of baseball cards

106

Tell me what you did so I can forgive you
Do it now before I remember
the car ride around the block
back to the front of my house
where I used to run barefoot
around the lawn

Now I just want to sleep
so tell me, because I'd rather
your voice abandon me
than my own reliant memory

105

And even when the world explodes
and I come up from underground, alone
where I explore the houses I've always known
though I've never really thought

of the rug where the family wiped their feet
and the checkered table where they would eat
to discuss the foreign policy
and who should give the baby a bath,

you're going to follow me, suddenly wise
withholding the answers by closing your eyes
offering no good advice
as my steps echo down the highway.

104

Watch the faces, child,
watch that woman with the dog
because she's only there when you see her.

Before you grow older
and her baggy eyes
look to you like a beaten car
and a dim lit room still the way she left it,

Watch her pull the leash
and fix her hair,
then turn the corner
and she'll disappear.

103

I can't help but pity
the girl I would have been
had I gone to the bank
before the store
and never saw you get out
of your tiny car.

She peels an orange
and plans her next day,
satisfied with the clouds.

And the only difference
is she went to the bank.
But someday, I'm sure,
she'll hurt someone
and no one will ever tell her.

102

I wake up between days
and open my windows
just to sing along
with the man who mows
his lawn at night

101

Send me a mile high hurricane
that won't feel any regrets
because I'd give my roof and car
for the next disaster not to be
like the last one.
I didn't like when you were a machine
but I knew you had to be;
I couldn't do it again,
watch you carve your meat,
put the squares into rows,
and stare at them a while.

100

It looked the same as it does now,
the way I remember it.
With the cheap stained glass window
above the marble counter

At the time, though, it was only
the painting on the wall
behind where you were standing
and the sound the coffee maker doesn't make
when it's been off for a while

Everyone said that it goes away.
Well it didn't,
but now the windows look just like
the broken glass on your basement floor

99

The night isn't as long as you think
You wake up the way you fell asleep,
with your hand hanging off the bed

How does it feel to dream
of ladders leaning on the moon
while the jungles across the ocean
overflow with sharp rain?

Well it must be happening somewhere.
As your paper walls let in the light
and I run into the sun

98

In this envelope is twenty minutes.
Now, choose between the ground and the sky.
You're going to lose something either way.

Where's your dad to say "hey,
it's no big deal",
and hand you a hot dog on a stick
to roast over a flame
that may be here longer than you?

97

I see the plants on the road
of one of those houses on the beach
every day, from the bridge above it.

And I'm telling you now I'll never be there-
not that there's anything there for me,
it just looks so close.

Even if I were to prove me wrong,
I'd still be the same,
all my voices in tact, whispering in my ear.

So I'll sew myself some clothes,
then close my eyes and jump on trains
to someplace fit for a movie
but where no director would ever look.

I mean the roads that could have been an accident
where even the birds are blind
and I understand the dismal clouds,
and there's no one to know me.

96

If I could just tie one end of a string
to your wrist,
and the other to a street sign
without you noticing

I could hide behind a fence across the road
and wait for you to scratch your nose
in a way I want to live with
and to see across the table
through the people that'll come for holidays

95

So you want to build a skyscraper,
a needle in the cloud
to grow up with the sidewalks
that know it better than its own buildings,
and the boy with the baseball cap who never moved away

Maybe the tourists will see it and want
to know something about you

So take a picture of the corner store
where you sit on Sunday afternoons
with your cigarette
though it won't get that swamp off to the left
where that tire used to be.

94

Yes, I heard about the game last night
I was the one who told you, remember?

You were at the pier again,
watching the lights go by.

Go on a ride, next time;
You don't have to be the old man
on the Ferris wheel,
not when you get home.

Because I don't mind if working late means the carnival
as long as you bring me one day
and show me where to buy
those tickets I find in the pockets of your pants.

93

Just admit that you were wrong
Say it softly, to my feet
before I clean up the shattered cups

I don't win
but I'm not allowed to hate you this much

Do I look big to you?
You do to me

Sit down or something, kneel
Our arms are crossed, we throw back our heads
and breathe in the ceiling

I know that you won't say it
and I won't say a thing
We'll both have to be the last to leave

92

Somehow I was surprised
when the big green shape
through the shuttle window
had no lines to separate the countries

And somewhere on the blob is a town
between the city and the countryside
with all the restaurants in the chains
that their millionaires forgot-

Where a boy stops for a milkshake
on his way home from school
hoping the rock he's kicking
will roll across
the smudge on the glass

91

I only drove a couple of miles too far
to a place where the people throw soda at boxing matches
and follow unlit streets home in cars held together by masking tape
to televisions that won't answer them

And the dirt road out goes into the woods
but it somehow took me to the highway
where the boxing town floated up to the air
and everyone around had someplace to go

90

I've always been walking towards a rocket ship
when I walked around my block
past the kids playing kick the can
and guilty consciences walking cars.

But this time, it's ahead of me
and these are the people
who won't move until I return,
though they may have more or less family then.

And I may know something that they don't
enough to wonder the color of their living room rugs
or I may only learn that the universe walls
don't look much closer outside of here.

And the stars look further from your backyard
when you've been really far away.

89

So the man down the street looks you in the eye
to find your past in your shadowy prose
While the man upstairs dreams he's in the light
that reaches our view long after the star is gone

We figured out fire and democracy
as children ran in yellow fields

And one day cops and criminals
will all have the same fate
We'll remember what's balancing
our houses and our feet

The world's last explosion will be a spark in the corner
Still, the people in the streets will gather, solemnly

88

You look up when you talk to me
Like it will make your tears less conspicuous
Or is it because the sky is the biggest think you know?
Yeah, well even that grows

Look up, look back at me
Close your eyes, but you'll still hear me breathe
What disappointed you most, I wonder
The sky, you say, it has me beat
The far things, they should look further away
And we should earn the right to see them
When we learn how to see

Well there you are, shrunken, and you don't even feel it
How can you think that this is all there will ever be?
Yeah, the sky is the biggest thing you know
And it's a whole lot bigger than I've ever been
Keep your head down, cry to me
You'll earn your right to hold another galaxy

87

It was finally almost over
so I came out of the woods
I rejoiced between the bullets
as some were for me
and no one bothered with the silly girl
who they had stripped the forest for
only days ago

And they were almost diminished
when I decided I didn't want to be found

But at least in the woods someone looked
while in the midst of contention
you weren't there to grab my wrist
and take me between walls

So my leg was lightly grazed running back into the woods
to the tree reminiscent of the one in your yard

86

I wanted to be an astronaut
until I realized it was hard
I still haven't said that yet,
but it's in the wrinkles of my hands

I can't forgive the kid
who made it too late for me
What were you thinking?
I always said I wanted to go far away

So the universe is a luxury
It says, dig up the dirt
for as long as you want
You won't find me down there

Then a trillion more voices
shout a deafening wind
to compensate for
the white hum that follows

So I sprawl on the grass
put my ear to the ground
and ear the rumbling city
start to shoot up around me

85

I treader out of the mountains with snow numbing my ankles
and distorted human voices that I'd strained to remember.
And there you were, no blanket, nothing warm to drink,
asking no questions
Then you spoke to a beat that wasn't in my feet
crunching the ice and snow below
You said you'd be going away, but you'd
be here for a while
And I adapted to your cottage
though I filled your frames and drawers for you
Because when you left, I'd have to leave too
but I could bring the things I threw away
I think that's how it works

84

Carry the dripping sun on your back
The rocks can't shine much more than the ones
on this part of the river
Still they don't tell you to where it flows

So stay upstream on your resting day
and hang your feet off the rocky ledge
Dreams of sunsets over wide open lakes
are no good with your country guarding the boats