The Ordinary Returns to Shutesbury, Massachusetts

As women flutter about like bats

and pollinate every table

with goldenrods, one begins

to acknowledge the sheer “O” one

feels from being alone in a field.

This adds to the clouds over

head because they are apart

of so many wider “Os”

A girl rolling her ankle under

a toboggan. The dog lapping

up the banana pudding.

Coition brings a chain of them.

While a roller coaster one long

“Whoa.” And, oh yes, the “oh” of forgetfulness.

In a few hours you see this  O another way.

A man wants to finish undressing you.

“There are so many fucking robins,” you try to say

but slip and “robbers” fit.

A heaping of salamanders break for the pond.

But suddenly, a smile breaks across a child’s

face, handing you his finished dinner plate.