January 2

You should have come.
It was cold.
I traced cracks in the cement
Across an empty parking lot.
Arms out, I teetered
Along a curb and down an alley
Where the cracks were full of tar.
I popped tar bubbles there with Debbie
(We popped them with our feet)
In July when we were seven.
I watched a leaf float down the gutter.
In the water I saw clouds;
Trees spidering along the fence;
A blackbird on a post,
Twitching his tail;
My face.
I leaned closer—the blackbird was gone.
I was alone awhile with the clouds
And the trees.
I squashed a puff ball with my heel.
I rolled a Bois d’Arc apple
Through the mud, and threw
A can at old Mrs. Bottigheimer’s dog.
(It hit the fence)
In the water I saw clouds;
Trees spidering along the fence;
A blackbird, on the post again behind me,
Twitching his tail.