Where ducks sat we sat next
And wanted to be Dutch.
If we would walk upright and not
Glance right or left the intersections
Would not come at us
Sideways, is what we thought.
But after a time it is hard
To keep feeling you are making this the best time
To look back on.
We talked. Some times I would walk
By a beetle thrashing
On the rocking of its domed-back and flip
It rightside. To say I’m here, and you be there.
Now the cicadas. Their long curving
Sound, and I turn
The thick line of their music into
Us. Even the ducks.
Then look back at the trip, how
Better than to be on it it is to be
Well bathed, and able to read the coins
And translate their value.
Copyright © 2016 by Michele Glazer. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on November 4, 2016, by the Academy of American Poets.