All Caught Up

the way I have spent whole weeks thinking of you
reminds me of lying on the flat of my back in a pond the
bottom is thick with pennies, maybe there are ducks, there are
spigots that cause the water to babble, to itself
mostly, there are children and dog-walkers and
maybe there is a man who says the pond is for
ducks.
I can stand and I can leave and I do and the ducks
and the man are glad and the children might be disappointed
the way I drip down the sidewalk reminds me of the
calm in my heart sitting on your porch, just alone.

I will find a better, running water to wash the moss
and duck-matter from my hair.
The way I shower and then get lost listening to the
drain is like tuning out your voice on the phone, or
letting the song on my iphone end and my tape deck adapter
make small quiet, thoughtful crackles and stops,
the way the wind muses is the way my hair is growing
longer, the way you say yes is the way I say yes.