Edging.

(in the photo: Brian in 2008 in Port Orford)

We see so little

of the universe as we hold tightly to the

tail ends of our balloons 

fighting the winds

that spin us around and around
and drop us in the same place.

At the creek's end

I sliced through the topography, I asked you what was the matter that morning.

You told me your hair was.

We just notice what we are interested in, I said.
This bothers me more than it should, you said.
And the talk stalled
as we walked back home silently.
You looked disappointed.
I thought I did that to you with the genes I bestowed
without the additional comfort and joy
and ribbons
that come with life-long presents.
If I said anything, you didn't catch it.
If you said anything, I lost it.