garage sale

in the aftermath of a burial,
old friends meet again
in an old pickup,
pick up where they left
(or try),
pick up stray glances,
pick out foggy frames of film,
pick at threads leading
somewhere, try
to pick what’s right,
to say to see to sell or save,
to give up, give in, give away,
to have epiphanies 
hinging on a lightning strike,
a brilliantly cracked porcelain sky, try
to hold camera flashes--
his hands, charted in a watershed of veins,
her eyes, mapped with flood scars, try-
to cherish a strand 
of thought, carry it in your mouth like honey
or water turned to wine, just try
to love
whatever that means
or
even try
patience. wait he’ll try her
patience, someday he’ll
sort the china and plastic dishes 
together
at a garage sale,
jumbled together for better or worse,
like a wedding--

HOW TO LEAVE, IN 3 EASY STEPS

One: you must
Choose your words
Carefully; hold them
Like a weary bird.
No one else 
Can choose them for you,
No one else
Can hold you
In
At all
Anymore.

Two: no doubt
You may regret this,
Flying off the handle
Of a worn suitcase
Like a lone
Sparrow, a lonely
Wren, alone,
And rent
From familiar
Feathered faces,
Fading.

Three: look forward
While departing
Words are said,
Lest salt water
Water these seeds
And you turn
The plow back 
To your first 
Fallow furrow
And follow it
Home.