summer, earlier this week

summer, earlier this week
a lament

after work, flying to a town nearby
down a back road racing end of day

it was just Monday, hurtling through golden burned-out, logged-out fields
headed to a bar in a town we’d never seen

our bodies in the truck warped and wrapped against the hill beside us
chance positionings, as three dimensional as shadow and memory of shadow can be

before work, on the empty lake, the mergansers were loud as power boats
plowing black water into fountains over their backs, eighty of them or more

they must have been flying ahead of the rain
they must have known better their coordinates

the rains came. yesterday. back again after eighty-odd days of heat and sun
like Johnny Cochran, the wet veil of fog over evergreens fit


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