Woodburn

Thick-set wooden limbs breathing with heat,

Cigarette smoke + drunk smiles + promise,

I word these nights down

To make sure they don’t get away.

But what to make.

What rockets to build,

What patterns to sew,

What road to take.

Me and my friends laugh the nights forward –

I look around to see maybes unwrap like paper

Unfurling,

Unwinding,

Twisting into tomorrows.

The rock star,

The artist,

The entrepreneur.

At night and among talk me and my friends build rockets,

Set for the stars,

Without aim,

Folding into the dark.