soap and sponges

she is beautiful
and i am myself
so i flit and bumble like a dragonfly does
at the end of the day, when the words are all said
and the water looks black and calm
like the edge of the world
in columbus’ restless daydream
wishing her to walk along beneath the stars

when plans are only cities and streets
i walk about in my size 10 feet
in tattered borrowed shoes
and make endless scattered paths (like ficus roots)
beneath the ground
of my hometown

when thunder clouds appear
in the north and western sky
i pack my tools away
call it a day
and make the drive
back to where i ate my breakfast
where i had my latest sleep
and think about tomorrow
making plans that are all pending
rainless skies

my life is all but soap and sponges
i hope my brother knows how much i love him
in that distant land with trees
and 95 too far to reach
to make a swift strut
into my neck of the woods