Sirius afternoon.

Man it is cold.

April today alongside this sleepy lake in the middle of the

city, where today it would be cold anywhere. But the wind

is moving toward me so the wiggling oblongs of sunlight on

the fine ripples moving toward me look like a thousand fish

moving toward me. The sun and the wind are competing for

space. And here is one of those weed-like trees whose every

leaf is designed to flutter. They're all shivering, hoping each

side can get some cold sun on it. I take off these dumb

sunglasses and everything changes so I put them on again.

Because I don't like the afternoon and that is why I am a

Spring person, a person of Spring. It also makes me repetitive.

II.

This person over here cradles her phone under her neck

leafing through papers. That one holds her dog in her lap and

and makes me think of a small friend who died last week and

and the woman he left behind and I wish I could go to her and

and go to him and it's funny how people, well, I, hold on to

pain. How it can be so warm and exquisite. I'd rather feel

my breath catch in my throat and get shook like those

leaves I mentioned than let the suffering part of sadness go

away. Because I'm afraid it will hijack my memories. I

I am afraid to say the words "good bye." As if we ever can.

Love marks you forever like a knife across the cheek. Or

something. Not something. It does. It kills me and today is

a good day to die. Good bye small friend.

III.

There's that dog again, no longer in the woman's lap but

lifting his head up to the wind smiling at everybody and

everybody who passes smiles at him in the same way they

would a new baby. Does the other woman, with the phone,

wish she could be with somebody, instead. I don't know. I'm

going to lie back like a dog and let the sun dig its fingers in me

because there's things that need to come out. Maybe the

wriggles of light -- jumping up now vertical and pointed to snap

at the air will snatch whatever it is away from me that made

me snap at you yesterday. But I don't want to end with a

metaphor about pets but maybe it's time to risk not taking

things seriously. The little lights on the water are pretty trivial

but they are gathering around me and I will listen to them.

IV.

My kidney hurts

There are geese overhead

An airplane roars

An hour is over

Good bye.