Fall recalled the heat of summer,
the stroke of sun fell heavy as a fist.
Walked the path behind the kept hedges.
In the chain-link, a hole was rent
to permit a man on hands and knees.


Read your message again:
My wife’s in Monterey. Meet me in the field
behind the park. I’ll take you for dinner.

Tender-palmed, crawled through bur clover
into filaree, wild radish, wild oats, and foxtail. All gold
and one incendiary touch from ash.
Hugged the fence and met strangers’ backyards:

             a sterile pool become fecund with a scum of fallen leaves.
             a girl leaping from a swing set, her parachuted skirt.
             a busy cloud of flies attending the unclaimed
             fruit broken beneath an apple tree.


A few branches arced over the fence.
I stole into the bank of shade.




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