The April rain, gray wind and sky / bird song choral rafters / preference to the evergreen. / When the night came for day you took a walk and saw the witch who drives a minivan pull into her spot / who once snuck up / will-o-wisp mowing the half-dawn lawn / shaded double figure confident on the porch of her maroon house of spire and sepia glass / you see her and you know the world has been an honor. / Half the glory of the snow have sprouted and half are already / a cold toned royal wander. / You’re happy for the day you’ve had / but when I play a dissonant note / you know the tune like a sad cowboy. / It’s a song like a nature vignette snug on a bookshelf / a sad meal that hits the spot, a spoon and a half of peanut butter and a glass of water taken to the couch / poetry and the dog, medicine like love / like an April walk. // Do you think about girls often / sirens wailing from down the block / mistaking nihilists for optimistic nihilists / or the therapist’s advice / to shower then coat the body in lotion to settle down without booze / because writing poems longhand with a pen made for sketching is a whole other mood when the notebook is porcelain and you’re on your knees praying anything gets better to the ambient space / because we know the shower helps like we know it gets better / there’s psych pop and the nurturing repetition of the red-white rabbits in Ocean’s tub / the robin and the honey locust and everything you said good morning to and everything you wanted to before / you became quiet into a veiled sky, crescent moon shining unfinished business. No. / We are lonely. / The plane and its headlights fly on and the moon is just sun dulled casting off; not a ghost / The ground is wet. The dog scratches the door, asking to go back inside. / We were looking for a message. You hallucinate a toy poodle as I give my dog his vitamins / its necrotic body breaking off then vaporizing / he is happy to see us / our agitating confessional perception / made of gone and forth dialogue: self-implicating the others though truly wanting harmony / a conversation, not tell all and wonder what we can hide in the same brain. / We will never not be this way: an ensemble of peers raised by the foreconscious remembering how to be itself / studying what’s okay or makes sense, patterns that never merge / and patterns that do / tracking voices that stimulate emotion and treading a way to the end / hid but not forgotten, found by an adoring touch / I have no names / though I haven’t directly asked them // where we are: / we’ve occasionally considered it.