Ignorance precedes lack of sense, inflicts bystanders hard
Bred from absence and abstinence—
As is the instance:
Uninterested in ‘young adult nonsense’,
Blonde children, six to ten, climb neighbor’s fence
One by two, skin-for-shoes, off in pursuit of new trick—
By watch of: the man in love with the moon
For the stolen sunshine it reflects against the room—

He collected unsure last laughs, set shot-sure half-tasks
And pinned them against the calendar—
Claimed time is just a metaphor:
Fine line of mountain-sky shore 
Where one’s breath will surely stop
Before one rests, or purely gives up

Somewhere along the tea cups, and coffee stains,
Free love, with purchase of nine-to-five days,
Dance halls lined in photo frames—
Shattered windows, battered widows
Keeling indelicate, reeling with inebriate sway . . .
Can you recall when you were kind?

Was there ever such a time?

His sister died a scholar,
Windshield wrapped tight ’round her collar
And his, when hanging up her lows
Found wearing a grin, framed in reined rope
Fashioned to a tree branch in neighbor’s yard