housefly in my mind,
zipping around and bumping into corners.
the static grinds wetly hotly against skull
i look at chapstick and think of snowfalls
i look at zippers and think of concerts
i think of my girl and see stone fences
in past new england pastures
barriers and divides and things to climb
surroundings can seem,
but then i look at the sky,
at the quaking aspen and birch closing above,
and it’s funny
feelings actually are.