Pearl

Here at this window pane, the light turns green, cars fill up their lanes, each dance is a trip, except slippers on my feet, tunes don’t shake my hips, I call out your name, like a dawn novena, but nothing fits the frame, the fine pavement’s clip, struggles for a beat, no spring tide rips, blonde woodyard grains, stack up like wheat, everything’s too far away, why can’t there be, a coming home freighter, something of the sea to party this evening ?