One
Under radiant moonshadow
Swallows glide into non-formation
Unlike Blue Angels
Their wings—
A doppler effect
Like a train or bomber
Two
Awkward weave spins in knots
Crude twine and dirt
It smells of wood as August dwells around the corner
Three
Life fleeing agents outside a world of glass and steel
Into the desert with you
Iron rods you hold
Tipping lives for roads
Leading to more fashion shows
Cocktail party hour umbrella and swans.
---Summer 1993, Portland, Oregon
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