May 9th

That type of afternoon slack

Held because of drink

And light like glass bottles, discoloured windows of the sun

I had already lost keys, my phone, and most of my money

When someone asked, "How is the grass?"

I wanted to stay flagstone cool the whole time

Furtive among the Jude lawns, the slick beds of somebody's home county

The buildings here in imitation of the land

Safehouses

And here in anticipation of weather

And here in regard for the sick

Another round comes 'round

Pale ale for me

Pale and unshaven

There is a common good

Here after last night

Though it has been too hard won