Ray Way, Thunderbird Homeagain,
Hugh and Mia Galore:
they enjoyed such conversational topics
as Mozart, tobacco, and four.
“Today’s peach boasts rare fuzz,” said Ray.
Bird added, “My mind is whale.”
Mia forgot her songbooks, but Hugh
said, “Let me embrace you all.”
Ray Way snagged Homeagain by the lapel
and fastened on Home’s left blue eye,
Mia saw Home’s green right eye unanchor
and wander away for the sky.
Then Ray, he let go of Home’s lapel,
and Ray let go of his ire,
and Ray let go the floor with his feet
to hover a bit on the air.
Hours ticked while oars pulled
over Lake Eekoutaheart.
The pelicans kept to their quiet perusals
of fishes, where the ripples teased apart.
“Please heal my ruptured soul,” said Mia.
Ray cheered, “The half-life got lived.”
Thunder again, he just picked at his sweater
where the yarn and his arms unweaved.
“The sky, it must be adhesive,” said Mia,
“elsewise the pelicans would fall—”
Way, still floating, looked her cool in her eye:
“Feel my faulty heart: it’s full.”
“So tell me, do you wonder about the crackers
once you lock the pantry?”
“I know God when I wash my hands.”
“Nothing makes sense like entropy.”
“And the pelican, does it unloose its eggs
like snow, an unbreakable good?”
“And does love shape the snow to hope’s ellipses?
“Who warms the nest—who could?”
“What’s next when your own eyes won’t let you go?”
“But the clouds won’t let me fall.”
Hugh stood up and repeated, softly:
“Let me embrace you all.”