For All I Know

For those who eat their lunch there's chocolate cake.
And for those who watch the moon casually
turns like a violet wheel under the train bridge.
For those the olive love after the flood summons
in the darkened color of its enlightening
a grateful basket shimmering of thoughtfulness.
For those who sleep clouds like drowned
pillows float about a fishy river.  Inexact definitions,
excerpts of dreams, shadows of sunny nudes shinning
like a penguin coat caped with curtains knitted by a swallow,
forget the tenuous tap of water.
A dog laps and ...has it been years?
That poetry (after all) flashed it panties,
and young, we gave it a slanted look.
Not a shard of misery came down our street
though the birches were as fierce as the hiss
of caterpillars claiming that their tomato world
had led them here.  They could have been singing
for all I know as I set them aflame.
Their underbellies darkening like the clouds before the rain.