the light thrown over the street
causes shadows to go flying,
catching my periphery. beams
from cars, stuck for seconds
in time. like a bug in sap, frozen
and fossilized for the future?
no. no, not like that at all. fleeting
and bright and gone and we’re home,
you’ve forgotten what you were
going to tell me and my memory
has failed me as to an errand
I’d meant to run. later, I’ll paint
the town a muted tan and you
will watch the dog. the machine
runs, the sprinkler sprays,
water flows, and so on.