Notes and numbers, Reykjavik
Last week in the calendar when you're sick
Windows used far less these days and the air is filled with the lavender stick
You held the hand and trembled on the gravel
Pine needle carpet and kayak paddles
You held the tears and the notes of the balladeer all along with the white dress and chatter
Foxy baby, orange-haired lady
Mr. Boy with the black tussled coat
Tug-o-war on the kitchen floor
And half wrote words written down on crumpled-up notes
Two cups of tea and a science fiction novel
P.M. 11:03
Making plans for Michigan and checking the kids for ticks again
And Mr. Boy barks through the screen
You rifled through the canvas bag I got in eighth grade
Searching for the lost potato chip (AHHH)
But the driver swerved and you lost the nerve and were back at square one
The air is filled with lavender stick
Foxy baby, orange-haired lady
Mr. Boy with the black tussled coat
Tug-o-war on the kitchen floor
And half wrote words written down on crumpled-up notes