You run my hands together,
five fingers in grand combat
with the other: chess boards,
Cold Wars played out in
when they stare across the way,
catching glance on bike-lock bridge,
atop nervy intonations, hard swallow
sea waves, follicle grease stringiness.
They are alight with distractions' air,
kind making visa appointments,
train ticket plans, impossible to keep;
shamrocks weaving in patterns with jasmine.
Some calm, cooling, collectivist cure,
crushed and reformed in super-pharmacy plastic,
some thing to throw these irrational temperatures,that buckets from the garden hose couldn't.