Frozen they come to me in a blue bag,
stain my fingers with their empyrean
juices, make of my yellow bowl
a hollowed out planet. If not for such
joys I’d be unfazed by death. But look,
two emerald chairs sit beside a coral
cafe table. Outside the arched window
the San Gabriels wear the clouds
like white toupees, august barristers
exonerating the valley. Under such
conditions who wouldn’t demand
eternity? Last night it rained. I rushed
outside in t-shirt & shorts to bring in
the bookshelves I’d sanded & stained
a shade the stain can called Jacobean.
O! I shuffled across the floor, towels
under my feet, collapsed into my bed,
& decided I’d had it concerning time.
So berries, defrost in your bowl like
awakening stars. So radio, give me
a purple sonatina. Let me hear
forever—& begin nothing further.