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YOUNG BOYS SMASHING FLASH BULBS ON THE SIDEWALK
Explosions are brief
but feisty, exalted.
Glass pops so crisp,
like berries, balloons.
Some are fired at sidewalks
like strung beads of shatter,
leaving no room for breath
in the dazzle of shards.
A few tossed at the feet
of the slowest, the fattest,
like six shooter bullets
making lead feet ballet.
Some squirt clean across grass,
crack but clutch their shape tightly..
Others bounce on their points,
walk, then topple, then snap.
Laughter quickens, more madcap,
its own tungsten assault,
as it bursts on the jaw
like a bulb on concrete.
COWRIE
We saved a year
for a week in Barbados.
Within hours of snow and chill,
we were on a boat
caressing the droll blue waters.
Our white skin
didn't stand a chance
in all that sun.
Flesh red and sore,
cold showers substituted
for hot love.
How stiff and painfully,
we enjoyed ourselves,
drinking ourselves tanned,
collecting shells
to take home
so the memory, at least,
would be hard and beefy enough
to last for years
and not be peeling a few days hence.
Now, its pearly surface,
svelte salty curves,
is how we remember that time.
It only takes a moment of
fondling that beloved cowrie
for the touch that grew back
to embrace the feel that never had to.
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