bridges and crossings
by Tobey Kaplan
leftover rain that had clogged clouds
now seeping into homes of ground squirrels
where dogs dig deep when does the longing cease?
scores of boxes full of books we love
manage randomly filed papers changing the sheets
before the party offerings of cream puffs and wine
cross the one of the bridges for a view of three bridges marina park
named for a field labor union organizer of grape workers
a story of patchwork lingering conversational interiors
where planes soar through clouds switching codes sorting
the accordion echoings through tunnels of squirrels
energetic trouble-bound trains and chances of wind
(what are the odds two days in a row this week
in a commuter car going under the Bay under one of the bridges
I’d see the same woman who works for a worldwide construction company)
crossing over a language of migrant workers
engineers and architects how movements take us
a projected movement through fields’ performances
dripping moonlight and rain downtown Castle Bridge apartments
owned by refugees no poets or pets or random persuasions allowed
crossing the cold floors smoky air carpet absorbed voices
in the doorway footsteps reaching keep going their names shouted
dog noses in muddy holes my hand a bridge over the earth
the sun drifts light and early colors edge of clouds
as airplanes soar over the metal spans morning
afternoon evening in any direction narrated
scattered evidence coded conversations
a chance meeting trespassers and pirates of history
when life looks like easy street there is danger at your door
facts never reveal their sources
through monologue or conversation perches
those glowing or fog covered arches of music
where we will wonder about the hardest days.