N a p a l m H e a l t h S p a : R e p o r t 2 0 1 0
Like A Weed
In the morning the crumbs were gone,
a dozen birds chirping in the tree
by the parking lot, a woman
yelling at her child to get ready
one truck after another
rattling as it hit the pothole
on the bridge, a beach towel
crumpled on the fire escape –
it had been there all winter.
A daffodil leaning in a plastic cup
on the kitchen table, plucked from
a patch of dirt by a fire hydrant
the night before.