M. Hank

yesterday 
to you i was nine years old 
with a black hurley hat 
that never left my head 
the hat that you would take 
and try to hold it far above 
my reach knowing i could never get it 

where do ripples come from

i wonder

these little 

escalating things 

perhaps they come from

the speed boat 

a few paces out 

sharp short

and jagged 

or maybe 

I have been told

To put curl cream in my hair

Upside down, eyes 

Straining against the ceiling light,

Curls straining toward the tile floor,

Bunching.

I will smell

We 

     Contain multitudes,

     Infinite differences

     And variations; it is

I’ve been going to a camp called Crow's Path since third grade. 

And even longer before that, but I can’t remember those days. 

People have come and gone, yes, that’s true,