low

Sun on Cira.
Twin reflections in river, rose-gold.
Spraypaint on sidewalk:
Never 4get my death.
Runner, hands raised like a prophet,
warding off cramps.

If I just knew where home was.
A baby in a stroller with old eyes.
"I know," the eyes say, but they offer
no comfort.

Breeze at a hot day's end.
Not cool, but movement.
I can hear it in the trees behind me,
but the traffic is louder.