Pick it up sometime on a sunny
afternoon. Cool breeze flipping
the page. Birds all chiming away.
That rusty gate. Carpenters pounding,
one house over. Sounding more like
too late Sunday morning. Cheap
band saw in my back yard, building
me a fence, splaying and popping.
Then the nails go in, much twangier
than down the street, much springier.
Then a hack saw starts on a metal pipe,
over concrete. All I want to do is sleep.