I think some flies just flew into my coffee
or maybe I suddenly aged seventy years
and am now looking back,
starting to finally reflect
into the dark
shades of green.
had started to turn toward me
when she spoke, overwhelmed
by the dying dreams of diplomats
That same green that we
let die in our youthful risks.
That same green that falls
off the trees
every now
and again.
The top hats must have looked
        awfully funny perched on the men
in the chambers,
        like egotistical birds
        squawking from
high above
turning our heads.
the phone I was
upset but then I became
better and I thought that you
should know that.”
                they circle around the men,
                now thrown away
                into white and gray
                like the fevered seagulls
                at the landfill
We went to the Chain of Rocks Bridge
with the sharp turn in the middle
painted green and
pointing south
looking at eagles
around a mist
perfectly perched
on the sticks in the river,
the Nile of America.
        America, she said, where plastic playgrounds
        drip in the morning dew
        that washes around the
        bird shit.

- Luke Sapa