Inadequate Help

I counted twelve hundred drops of rain
to cull the drought in the desert

but at some indeterminate future
coordinate. There isn’t even a crowd

to be lost in anymore– human bodies
dissipate into pixels on a stuttering

screen. Listen to her voice. Listen
to his voice. What we are drinking

when we speak is a potent purple
cocktail: dragonfruit, chia,

pineapple, banana, ginger,
vodka, rum. I know you

are close when you made it
but the rain’s still far away.

(originally published in San Antonio Review, Fall 2020)

Jessie Must Think I Am Pathetic

Another gray sky day, empty gas tank worries in the countryside
nowhere don’t you long for my touch? Oz runs just far enough
for the bone against the backdrop of my outstretched arm
hand out fingers extended & I don’t know where I stand with Jessie
except she must find me pathetic as she walks into water under the
influence of Dr. Dog & now she swim-dances the past three days she’s
walked along the rock edge of the pool. & now I need to text Tony Z.
what’s a man most afraid of? I’m getting used to inadequacy. Oz brings
his bone to the other side of the fence. Jessie says she misses the green,
the pool purified at the beginning. Sara throws pong ball through
the hole of a lime lifesaver floatie and a butterfly metaphor soars
above the water. Have you ever almost drowned on drugs? I don’t
recommend it. The lesson is gravity’s not the occasionally falling apple
but the drifting leaf toward the other side, whatever the definition. September
third and we just got our first sunburns. Hannah leaves the house after
work and like a magic trick, three pong balls appear in the water
and the sun reveals itself a moment. Oz lays in the grass in front
of me before a philosophical discussion about casserole and how to cope
with beans bought at the beginning of pandemic we will never eat.

(originally published in KNOT Magazine, Fall 2021)