Staying awake on a warm afternoon
brings out the dreams from hiding
while walking down the street
with absentmindedness for company.
Every house has locked
its secrets inside. The sunlit pavement
rises to meet each step
along the way. The ocotillo stems
are breaking into green, while the blooms
at their ends hang lazy
and red. The light that broke
from inside the Earth this morning
is in full bloom. A few steps more
then turn back to read the mail
which isn’t worth its name today, but
there are doves arriving with
a Mexican postmark on their wings.
They sing in the language of heat:
come with us to the shade where
the water has been cooled all night
by the floating reflection
of the moon.
