Eating Cantaloupe

The man is alone.
he’s working at the rind of a cantaloupe with his
lips and teeth.
The sun will find its way into his eyes.
His keys will open his doors. His wives will
one by one
seek the individuality
that hey have lost.
He will lose his coat in the snow.
The buried will sing to the non-buried
like birds.
The chickadees will bathe in icy water.
A second man will fall through the frozen river.
His coat will be found
among shoes and children in the rocks
under a bridge like wintry crabs.
The hair of trees must be shorn
again this year.
A mustache will fly away like a bird.
Steam rises from the drain.
All the stolen things will be returned.
I want to speak with a physicist about how this is all possible.
Speaking of danger.