a narrow path toward the tram
weaving beneath the trees
pieces of sky
scattered through the canopy
my eyes caught upward
the expanse searing blue
burning from somewhere inside itself
glowing
so glowing
it almost hurts to look
while the green
is already paling
into the ochre
of dead leaves
inside
the tram is hot
my eyes adrift
sliding off faces
the bus after it
hot too
nothing catches
station side
a cement mixer truck
on its driver’s door
a huge black ant
trapped inside of a circle
letters spelling
CONCRETE SOLUTION
now legs delivering me
up to the pale green room
I’m perched
against the windowpane
at the edge of the baby pink couch
eruption of ultraviolet
amid the crisped flowers up there
my squinting eyes follow a wasp
skimming the ceiling
with its possibility
of a sharp burning pain
then there she is
scissors and all
letting my name out
among the foliage
her tanned legs
impossibly long
taut muscles
running along
the outside of each thigh
only a thin line of brightness
like a second skin
above her high heels
elsewhere
beneath pine and spruce
among twin flowers
and bilberry leaves
an anthill
out they come
the endless crawling and milling
pouring over
one another
swarming up my legs