He
motions me to forget
the
dawn and remember the
one whose water made the wood
rust
a deep red. My cab
driver stops at all green
lights. His meter runs
time. Time.
We were robbed at midnight.
I can ride no more.
The thief was a friend.
Buffalo Mountain
Mountain snow when the stream has dried.
that has died.
In the Spring a sweet white wine, decanted
by the sun.
Every Broken Thing