Know how the sprinkler makes great arcs low and up again?
It’s like a curbside ode tracing the trim wet lawns
To the sewers and drains
To the rivers and lakes
To evaporate and return as rain?
We barreled a car across the state
Wore out our tapes
Halted on salted roads
Between receding lakes
The wind clipped through the reeds
The alternator shot
The dashboard lights shut off
The car was dark
We began to freeze
We drummed our hands on our knees
A tuneless tone marked for home
Came through rhythm free