My brother’s bird
at the wheel
She leads us
manicured
down past 50
year-old signs
pointing turns
here & there
& down one
we ventured
through open
windows the wind
startled &
caught our hair
Over the roof
a playground
game of trees
Arms shaded
we forcing us
to get an early
night English
springsummer
(green filtered
tips oh notso green
or greener yes
but green & light)
leading us
away from the
lots to the nots
But if we were
all happy then
maybe I’ll go there.
Monday, June 3
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