lonely floating persons
fall through the world like smoke through sunshine
making momentary patterns
half-acknolwledged painful certainties
sweetness in the mouth
the ageless green, the minute of gold
i could disappear before i touch the ground
crossing and re-crossing the ghost circles of my own footsteps
re-breathing the same breaths while
the light on the lake has gone from summer white
to an acute and slanting semolina yellow
and the air sings cooly over me.

I might go off the path there-
into the unknown nameless street just past that stone wall
or here, where the water rubs round black rocks-
more than enough-
green with duckweed under the trees,
slowly balding to dry bare branches.
I can run, run, run.