The back dogwood’s in bloom again.
damn thing keeps hittin’ me in the head,
but those buds sure make it beautiful.
network of this building don’t make sense,
lookin’ at, at least eight different routers,
miles of cable, antique printers run daily.
get lost for days in there–
love to.
hands to cable bark
tracin’ through the dust/
brain bashin’ against the problem–
–what are you?
slowly poking until I know.
this brick sagged building
has to have someone who knows it.
can’t bring myself to do more
than pat it on the bark
rubbin’ the smart.
Way the white blends with the neighbors’ cherry blossoms–
–in them spring early mornin’ mississippi mists,
hardly notice the storage facility cross the alley.
