in other words vol 3: a collaboration

 in other words vol 3 | Colin Seven, Tricia Lane Forster | Colin Seven (bandcamp.com)

Pinellas County
 
Orange juice factories and Spanish moss.
Glass bottom boats and mermaids in tanks.
Mornings spent playing solitaire in the sunroom.
Skee-Ball and shuffleboard.
 
Lessons in how to pass the time.
It seems so endless right now.
 
“The chrysanthemums bloomed.”
A comment made in passing
to distract from the fact,
your heart will break at least a thousand times.
 
Walks in the humid evenings,
watching for frogs with yard long shadows.
Eyeing up underpasses,
searching for post-apocalyptic shelter.
Tiny birds tucked into rows
on the backs of corrugated steel highway signs
like sweet invitations into envelopes.
 
If we’re lucky,
we'll meet again under the pear tree.
I will teach you how to sew buttons
back onto shirts.
How to wash a glass.
How to carry your story
because these hexagons will scatter.
They pull apart
and come together.
They shift,
right now,
under my feet.

For Anna May

The spearmint and dirty buttercream awning,
a little bit dry rotted,
rattled softly in the light rain.
 
I looked out for you,
but all I found was an empty Coke glass
with runny condensation
and two stale ice cubes lounging around,
unwelcome at the bottom.
 
There are no windchimes,
just the tick, tick, tick, tat of the ceiling fan.
No rabbits either,
just old, wise bulbs and seeds
waiting like monks to bloom.
 
First will be the daffodils,
then wild violets,
redbuds, dandelions, buttercups,
forsythias, tulips, azaleas,
wisteria, lilies of the valley, roses,
irises, dogwood,
clover, poppies, daylilies,
and rose of Sharon.
 
Soon, the crickets will be square-dancing
and sleeping in matchboxes under the hostas.
 
We will play checkers again,
won't we?