Just yesterday, Grace, the next door neighbor,
puffed into the sky on fish-gill coat arms.
About evening orange, she drifted back
and snaked a blue balloon up the radio mast
to beam into space on light shards.
Today, Grace little-old-ladied her way
to the grocery store, then hup-hup-hupped
to the shade of the elm.
She was last seen somewhere
between owl hungry and Coahuila purple,
trout levitating up the sidewalk,
waving to the children
on their way home from school.
