five pairs, five victims,
five lies for truths suspended
on Christmas-ornamented line
after the walk from school
ends at popsicles, televisions,
cigarettes, and bike pedals,
bullies forget
a dog barks at sunset strollers,
shoe factories in china smoke,
voices shoot through wire
in the night quiet settles
on alley cat tails,
breezes knock heels together
wind busts down concrete and brick canyons.
rain chases bums into doorways and under steps.
over hunched shoulders and upturned collars,
umbrellas open and close like fists
bubble-eyed buddha rests
on the bottom of a pop bottle,
he smiles at a crowd
that applauds the arrival of enlightenment
sometime this afternoon, you can count on a flash
to break the room, make our innards spill to the floor
and there, soaked up in carpet fiber,
they form miasmas that lift buddha
into heaven from that bottle of pop
and show us the light shining
in our faces
where it’s always been
wind shoots dark swirls of leaves
into the gray and rain,
over traffic and down into the yard,
over the fire pit and into the garden
we’ll sleep there,
crow stamped and dog sniffed,
snow blossomed and frost caked
we’ll tease fleshy snake roots
and cold slothful bugs
with toothy smiles and bony wits
in dew spring morning, we humans—
sunray warm, covered with fungus,
ripe humus, fertile breathing—
rise