Lavender March
the flavour of the month is
garlic and Fitzgerald and
l’anniversaire and
stealthily rising heat,
an era of new streets and
surprises and unearthings
a boatload of dream fragments
struggled through the night’s door,
perhaps harbingers, a ripple
passing through the cosmos
as some kind of warning
today it’s lavender and tee-shirts
and pictures for bare walls
and a quieting moment,
when the shoefall breaks the fragile wall
and in the quieting moment it’s clear
that things will follow from things
and lead to other things
who asks, who tells,
as night falls like a plunging
neckline on a skydiver,
oriental neon paints
abstractions on spinning fans
and potential patrons ask
how cheap is your beer?
maybe it’s the price we pay
and so I find whimsical joy in
drinking vodka and ice
in an attempt to invoke
unlikely Slavic ancestors
the best is yet to come?
sure, or more of the same
we spend our lives
preparing for today,
and still there will be
tomorrows
