Tuesday, April 8, 2014
No not here
somewhere in empty land
where plans fall through
the cracks of giant picnic tables
it rained so heavily
we had to take shelter under the benches.
All is lost in the endless green grass
the blades like swords.
After the storm we manage
to climb on top of the table.
Now we see
they are everywhere, these picnic tables,
there's hundreds of them.
We explore the one we are on
jumping over the cracks
the wet wood slippery,
we find a heart carved into one of the planks
the wood chips big as our hands
still lay beside it
with the soaked crumbs of the meal
that we will
share later this week
( photo today; looking up from under a tree, glittering insulators, currents unknown)