for Eileen
The light's olderin these sandstone suburbs,jam-thick.
A clipped-haired man held a dog leashsaying one of us is single,and even the leaveshad hunched their shouldersin the gutters.
A waiter, golden-brown as a bread loaf,squirted water at the pigeonsthat sat cock-headed at the tables. My tartwas soft and skinless. Later, your cat
curled fluidly against my legsand watched the water fi ... (read more)