May 2013, Oklahoma County

Highway’s littered –

Broken wasp mid upturned beetles,

kindling spinning, mortar, dust –

This is us,             so many Mays.

Along

the alley we call

windicide,         with it gone

this morning’s ride.

Roadways move, asphalt split.

We glean.

Leaving luster

for simpler need

roll along

like

Wind           comes and goes,

like most.

Two nights later

the young moon still

waxes  over

wane.

Those kittens you found

in a shed on Black Cat Alley

eyes still closed,     we got more of those.