Wait Here

Though sometimes the present clutches,
panoramic scattered, in gigantic ways,
we wonder about “its persistent fluttering.” 
Later, far-reaching, bark phone in the wind dawn
that maybe we can trace the dog’s cold sun
in an inch chatter humming like a bat in the quietness
of the mountain. As the north of March grew yellow
with evening, Mikrorayon four, married in self-facilitated wish
where the world elongated itself endlessly.
Surrounded by moody fanatics at the baseball game,
the supermarket had everything.
In the early years, you described your life as difficult.
“Wait near the blue building,
once you cross the street on your left.”
And like the years, I don’t remember if I promised
to think of you like a pebble on the floor of the sea
or if I felt alone on the first of autumn
bored with the unrelenting sky.
As we were with our friends, eating pomegranates that day
speaking of our lives, you said it was a good idea
to open the window and through all the talking, shortly after
a warm bird had made its way in. Now looking back
all I think of is the bird and the why and how?
One of these days, we will have to replace the windows.
“Wait by the warm sea
through the street years.”
Like a butterfly caught in an intricate crime, we were perplexed.
“How did this delicate being find its way in?”
Each speaking of our “Wait by this… 
and through it, we will find a way….”
Driving through the country seemed expensive
and in part, the roads weren’t easily seen.
The little shop brought some money
by drawing ornate calligraphy and Tweety posing
next to a brown chicken alongside women
with thin eyebrows about to get married.
A secular meaning of the world was unusual
but regardless, summer kept on
to reflect upon and a winter to love the breeze
that moved the days along like a linear sense of
“Okay, I will meet you, at this time and this place.”