The bird staples itself

into the afternoon, asking

               to be asked

               for forgiveness –

a prowling Hyundai snarls defiance.
Here, the options are

to be mostly one thing or

               barely many others.

               Escape is via

laugh track      tollway      weather balloon dirigible –
the backboard

in the breath,

               the blackboard

               of the throat,

the things giving each day permission to proceed
in the furrow of the previous one      that is to say

with desolate compassion. See the corner’s quaking aspen

               whose leaves

               are its highest vow

grinding down the teeth of the day. It happens every 
moment, and again. Serried fenceposts

which don’t know better. A bypass’ plunge

               beyond imagination. Two

               caterpillarwise helicopters.

The smell of the first breath from air-conditioners in cars
signalling nothing. Evening coming on like television,

like the second cigarette –

               nothing redone or to redo

               much less forgive.