I lifted a match and we all
started singing, and meant exactly
what it was we said.
There is a candidness here like
a permanent stitch of crochet,
and I am befuddled by it.
I don't mean to say I can't recognize
the need for sincerity, of
passing by geese and giving a nod
to the presence of God's tongue
lapping up the spray of wind
behind their tail feathers landed
so slightly on August grass.
What I am saying is that when I put on my t-shirt
it was for some sense of recognition
a smile, a hand hold, truth
like a key and a lock.
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