Memories

The state fair has gone
Into the nasty underground.
The wet dirt, the bedrock
Its hat,
Then on top of everything the
Aromatic grasses
So everywhere is the
Aromatic grass of summer.
Underneath
Pig snouts and horse hooves cut off,
Beer boiling in cauldrons,
Hunters
I smell you
In love with me,
I smell
The black dog’s ashes in a bucket, the parakeet’s
Ashes
In a
Takeout box,
The waveless beach that only slightly opens in my favor.

Goodness, non-goodness
Gone away