Bidi-bom

(Idaho, January 2023)

I staggered for eons
in trousers
heavy, full of shame. 

Wore an ugly blouse
of regret, my watch
ticked twice as often
as it ought. 

Now
I am the object
of my forgiveness.

Stones, that filled
the pockets of my life
trickle down my leg
and bounce
off my sneakers. 

In the sun, I am
dancing up a mountain.

I keep right time
in my chest
bidi-bom, bidi-bom.

From now on
all the love letters I write
are for readers.

She is me.
These socks have holes.
I save money on postage.