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The Cat and the Mushroom

The cat was orange, striped like a cinammon bun.
The mushroom was round and meaty, with pink-peach spots,
Arcing out from the center in military lines.

The cat lay in the mid-morning light by the dumpster,
Enjoying the smell. Perhaps it was hungry. The rot was on the air,
Edible, in chunks. The cat washed himself
Piece by piece, like a roast chicken.

There were thousands of mushrooms, but only one
Wearing tiny spots in measured lines.



At Fifteen

Perching out over the water
Is the hotel's only grace. Night,
And you want to be someplace without anyone else.
Down to the beach

In the un-light, electrics bouncing off the clouds,
A tear of moon, the water gives it all back.
Alone and listening to the hum,
Push back, advance of the ocean

That has eaten up the coast.
Never tiring, belly never full
With all the sand it swallows.
You are the lighthouse tonight

Between sea and wall, and you are alone.
The passage of time was a dream you had.
The coast will push back out, the buildings vanish,
The lights at your back will vanish,

All the cars melt away. What you want
Tonight is to be the only lighthouse.
Your feet are stone, the moon is moving
On the face of the waters, pulling the sand

Into its arms. The ocean is rocking
The earth like a bawling infant.



The Greek Girl

Down the up alley in Athens
Left restaurant and parents behind me.
Early evening sea light
Hoping to find a cat.

Food is strange here
Pudding cups sold single.
Mystery letters on the peel-off top
No-brand oreos in the fridge.

Sellers with their bike carts angry at me
Seven, poking, demanding, chattering.
Stupid noise, English, nobody
Understands. I don't want fish.

No more fish. Went walking
With permission, glad to be rid.
I did find a cat. Behind a gate.
Hello, hello, here are my fingers.

Kittens, a clamber of cats.
I talked and talked, sweethearts.
Darlings, come, but then the girl
Answered with Greek and her hands.

We exchanged. Point, name, point,
Name, gesture. No, beckon. Come up
To the end of the alley. Uphill
Into the lowering light.

Into the corner store. Her mother.
Pepsi for us, children. Those days
My skin was dark. Their store,
No money, our hands moving.

And talking slow goodbye,
Good-Bye, bye, run down the stones.
Parents hello tell story eat fish
Now thirsty. Still hungry.



We Arrived at Santorini

It was abandoned, blue and white.
Emptied out. Like a plague town.
Like the bodies had jumped into the ocean.
Only the island beneath us was awake,
Humming. I wanted food.
They gave me cookies, all the stores were shut.
All white, stone, plaster, bricks.
The white followed us inside and into the shadows.
Night, white, noon, no one.



My Mother Got Angry

And smeared jam across the tablecloth
Jam from the plastic packets they stack for you
Tablecloth white
The waiter being an asshole
The dining room was emptied
She was traveling with children.

She used a knife to spread it, silently
In Greece they say time is so relaxed
You can pour it like honey.

I ate my croissant, butter flakes sticking
To my lips. We up and left.



We Visited the Volcano

That used to be a city
Rolling with bulls. And kings,
A great city. Circle,
Crescent, decreased. Speckle-brown rock
The color of hens. Feels like wet rock.
Into the earth-warmed tidepools
We slid our clingsuit bodies. Clear water,
Volcano flavor. That's where I stayed.
Oftentimes I stay behind.
What did I know about bulls--nothing.
About lost languages, more than the water.
Rubbing my hand over the rock.



To Athens Then We Came

But all I remember are the slopes.
The up, down. The best way
Is to live in a city,
To feed the cats in its cemeteries.