R

White petals curl up
to me obviously they're perfectly thin little
eggshells and soft moss under my feet
thin soled
tentative and tender
brushstrokes, obvious everywhere
other petals are spreading out like shaking loose paint in
water-blooming
pink champagne rockets arcing into the
sky which had intense colors like these
impatience in the early morning hours
we spent under little green fans waving from a tree that outlived
time lines the bark which make wood surging, flowing falling when
perfectly still
I lean in closer
or step back to drink in
green foam overflowing from concrete
cups and napkins, which are the only thing I can compare to those
soft pale skins which lie on the grass
with you
seeing the trails of each seedpod's giddy heartburst
or the corner of your soda can, which I leave in the frame because it's something of you
parting from me when I walk home, wandering
little yellow stars unhide their faces and wink through roadside green, rough
hem of my jeans
which are finally and completely broken in
the pinpricks
make me sigh and smile.