Pockets out of quarters
past Pedal Heads
& a row of daffodils
you misheard flawed
as flowered and filled
what was missing
in the air with Yes
everywhere
people flower.
We left an archipelago
whose elders weather
heart
attack &
heat
stroke as
if illness
were a cluster of islands
we kept crossing.
Water rising
up to our hips.
Here we live
in a city that thinks
it can bury the city
it stands on.
Here we live
in a city that unroofs
as often as it rains.
Under a glass awning
we trace patterns
on our palms.