ashbery did it better

Reality is named, charted,
stolen, tagged like restless birds
and all our thoughts confined
to gas released from a submarine.

And yet, there is light
coming from the face
of someone
pinched shrewdly
into a decision,

saying "hmmmm..... I'll

take it." The birdbath
is yours, as is the fountain

which you didn't factor
into the request, nor
the weight of your decision.

All is calm now. The produce section
of the local supermarket still gives
the scent of and recently washed
flowers every time the day
stumbles you through its obstacles.

Searching for life out of time,
however, we have wondered if
the tacks holding the ancient
movie poster really left their
imprint, or, waiting for us
to look away, they will escape
like our chances for other selves
and tell stories to each other
while our backs are turned.

We can only shrug disarmingly,
resettling the dust on our clothes
and walking through suburbs
as if we had in mind the errand
we were running when we arrived
at the place we had in mind,

like music, resting for a moment
on the handprint of our gloves.