Daughter made an elaborate series of nests
In the shrubbery around the laundromat.
Her fairy fort consisted of a bedroom,
A main castle, and a spy lookout. When
It got too hot even under the vines to play,
She borrowed change and wandered off
Down the street to buy two cans of soda.
Then she wandered over to a neighbor's
Home to see if his daughter could play.
Body sat outside with a soda, sweating while
The clothes tumbled in the sweltering room
Behind him. Acquaintances and strangers
Wandered down the sidewalks. No one,
Least of all body, fell in love, although
Somewhere other people he knew were
Doing just that, also healing, also dying. But
Here the air was smokily empty of love
And body alone was neither healing much
Nor much yet dying. Beige haze obscured
Valhalla wilderness and its floating ice field.
What was going on this summer afternoon
In New Jersey, forty-eight years ago? body
Wondered, pulling up nothing particular
About early August 1969, after the big Moon
Landing the month before, that blurry all-day
Tedium on a small black-and-white TV.
Must have been something. Daughter likely
Will not, body thought, remember this day,
Likely will not recall a single detail of this day.
Later, back at the cabin, a loon called
From the lake. That detail may stay.
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