Elements

This is what I love about the world:
The sun in September, warming my arms
Like a blanket from the dryer,
Like a bonfire blazing in a frost-covered field,
Or copper, in a sky and all hot,
Turning the insides of my eyelids into rusted infinity
As I listen to the silence of sundown;
Like tomato soup.

The wind kissing my face
Like a wisp of stray hair,
Like a woman grazing her lover’s hand in forbidden touch
Many lifetimes ago,
Or a gentle breath that confirms life amid quiet slumber;
Like perfume.

This is what I love:
The sun and the wind as I sit on a curb,
Elements
Oblivious to imperfection,
Unaware of chipping paint or unpaid bills
Or ugly schoolgirls with broken hearts.
The sun, warming me just the same as it warms
The waitress from D’Arlecchino with the long chestnut hair
Or the old man sleeping in the alley.