July Is A Swimming Pool

the trailer park kind
stocked with nubile girls

a red two-piece on caramel thighs
before they swell to fat

lips stung sugar-spun pink
cologne that mimics bubble gum

and the unforgettable aroma
of coconut oil.

the summer before you folded.
Underwater
your limbs revert to amphibian
and each blur
is a secret smile.

ugly, old man in a bad suit

you muse them
these young girls
from Bucharest and Sofia

their sturdy tanned legs
run toward you

posed on a rock or bench
often holding a frayed hat

that flops like a neglected pet

and there you slump,
your slouch as sullen
as your mouth

that cannot open proper
with its fence
of rickety posts

what the earth brings home

my garden hums
with venom and slugs

yet I discover
a tiny plastic shovel

dig shallow
nudge a teaspoon of earth
uncover

a juicy worm
disturbed from haiku sleep

I am inconveniently reminded
of your words, brown misshapen pearls
that bite like loosened teeth

the clumsiness of veronique rough

this clumsy path
whose title you claim
is mammalian shaped, so warm, so soft.

at the end of a picnic
or beginning of a funeral
when outdoor hearts
scratch fear,

I stall.
the presence of your absence
turns all celebration
into a recurring snag.

with amulets and chants
I call you back,
recall, recall,
abruptly at this final cost.
each fall, every doubt
is dipped in code, plated in chance.
What hope is there of landing unlost?