Eclogue

Slowly, all your secret(s)
walk up to the piano
like stray dogs to play
this sandlot of lost puddles,

whistling goats
where no waterfalls
come to mind.
Steadily, the rainbow

drowns in water, the drug(s) wear off,
the grief of someone’s laughter
falls from a window, empty as bricks.

Tomorrow? Maybe, I’ll be flying,
sitting in a highchair
beneath the same stars.