letters scatter on the ground, mingling 
with the leaves and dessicated branches,
discarded by their trees and books for 
the sake of simplicity, so significant 
to anonymous soldiers, convalescing 
from decorations.

poodle-draped girl jumps, barking black curls, catches 
the flying discus, discussing with me wings, 
other superflous apparatus of gliding through.

the sun remains outlined behind an eye-shaped cloud,
its middle peeking at me in an ill-concealed secret, yet
i hide even better, buttoning up my fur,
defying the cool in overheated houses 
from which i cannot leave.

before going, i trip over a stick.
it is in my hand.  i throw it far.
it hits the air and refuses to fly.
i must accept 
its meaningless gesture.

10.25.98