FABLE

Daylight as yellow as egg yolk,
a meditation on a cashmere rug,
spring creeps through the air conditioner.

Today is my day. I stare into my coffee.
I can interact with all the other fire ants
who scuttle in the dirt.

The sun does not glare
as the wisteria bob a soothing purple.
My one wish is to be loved

or touched or scolded beyond
recognition, so that years later
you will see me on the street

burning for that same connection
by the pizza shop wall, the way your pants
pressed into mine in the glint of flour dust.

Across the prairie kids pack pouches with tobacco
and tie them to the pines, learn how magpie
beat buffalo in the two-legged race.