Roves

A landscape formed, rocks
that dissolve
over time, inside the cave
smiles are felt,

not seen. From there
a walk along
an unnatural canal,
his eyes don’t adjust

so quickly. A pair
of shades and he’s ready
to destroy myths:

Bats can see.
Tornadoes can pummel
downtown church steeples.
Some people can go

home. He’s not
one of them.

The Second Time You Visited Me in a Dream Were We in the Algarve?

We sit beside a pool
inside a villa’s iron gates. A foreign country—
which one? Do you
live here? I know

I don’t. Take my driver,
you say. I don’t want to
leave. I try to get
your attention. Why

is this box
full of water? Something sloshes
inside. But when I lift the lid
all I see is

a science pamphlet
written in English. I read
the words aloud to you
hoping for a humorous phrase

or double entendre too profound
for you to ignore. Karst. Sinkhole.

Biodiversity. Endangered
what? Tourism? Amnesia? Fantasy?

You look me directly in the eye, or
you see a greater
flamingo land on the stone wall
behind me. Whoever blinks first—

Analemma

Eventually we begin
to repeat ourselves—the same three
chords, color
pattern, farewell
line in a breakup
text, taste
of ginger
on the tongue. Everything

becomes someone’s
déjà vu, even the truest
saudade expressed
on the side
of a broken
boat in a field.

Step on
my shadow, but don’t
float away
before I recall
your first private
murmurs at dusk.