splitting fruit

Washington Monument.

from my senior work, Get Away First.

D.C. day,
he takes me to Dupont Circle where speed chess games
went lightening quick and shopping carts wielded by
men in drag and women in garters and inside,
light and shadows intertwine on walls from
a simple glass hoop twirling in place,
awe.

D.C. night,
he looks at the trees and i look at the blackened
blue sky and air with hints of winter, we stand
closer together and when letters run out,
one syllable words take over as
street names. i insist there is
reason behind the names
and he says it's just
coincidence, by
chance.

we first familiarize ourselves
with me & you (we slip hands
together easily, there is something

that feels
comfortable
that feels

good)

we walk along Davenport to
Rock Creek Park where
we stroll in the
middle of the street and
disregard cars

we jump the tiny creek
and are surrounded by
tall almost bare trees with
baby green leaves sprouting
the sun made them lighter and
lower branches lash at my feet


Rock Creek Park.

we sit and we eat
pasta and sauce and raisins
amongst fallen trees (unpredictable
rain storms) and we
watch deer
watch us
watching them

we familiarize ourselves
with us walking through
Arlington Cemetery
looking at rows of
chalk-white gravestones
trying to interpret the meaning of
a cross within a circle and
why unknown graves didn’t have numbers
at the Tomb of the Unknown Solider,
we watch in silence a soldier hand off
a gun after inspection with sharp turns
and clicks of heels

we wander across the Potomac and
venture to the western National Mall where
children play in unknown smoke billowing from
a grate and a man in orange play
handball against the marble wall
we sit near the Monument
watching that wall and the flags
dim gold
into darkened dusk



National WWII Memorial.