Regarding the traffic spilling down the streets at dusk,
slow pleasure, as the brakes are pressed, released, and pressed again.
Regarding the canvas flag in the plaza giving way in the wind,
folding up, framing a triangle of sky
and snapping to attention again.
Regarding the pale stones lining the dark paths in the park,
the long looping morning walk
past the parents quarreling oblivious to their children’s love.
The inevitable, ascending, and continuous joining
and breaking off of things,