Cover my busy fingers.
And when the 11-on-the-dot sprinklers activate,
I find another familiar I will depart.
Giggling half-naked children in the yard,
a dozen in-jokes with family, and
the easy laughter of friends' shared absurdity
all echo in the day's remembrances.
The new costs so much.
The New York Times accosts me with humanity's desperation.
I use its news to keep things from cracking.
And all the while smudges, sprinklers,
a series of beats, and messages from a boy.
Stars & void. Transfiguration.