at the          islandin the     intersection

during a pause      in    the rain

he came at         her

wearing      white  

she had not        wanted

his lips               lastnight

but at the party         themoon

crawled up her     arms              

the bus       stopped 

to her right       atruck to the left

she don’t          wantto      know  him

out       in the    light of day

she       paused             longenough   

then     turned              away

the moonmight be

unreachable

butlaughter loitered

on everyface

if therewas no flour

she woulduse dirt

therewould be bread

shedidn’t have to know

othersdid and knowing

wascollective

generositywas being

a glowingplanet daily