Like a windstorm I’ve ravaged a body
and it is mine, sometimes
words soak in me like rain,
sometimes I use them with another
but after small talk on the piazza,
we went separate ways.
O, booths, lanes, empty houses,
I cannot hold the wind that goes by,
as I wade into emails
then ads saying
I should take a cruise.
Silly, I’m already on a cruise.
Aren’t we made for trying,
all the pent-up dreams released,
don’t I want more of that,
meaning I have hope that somewhere
over the horizon a new wind is building,
germinates an idiom, with all the forging
forward, then stepping back,
the wandering and wondering,
a new idiom implies,
like new seed in old soil.
