I Have More Arms Than Vishnu.

I used to have a room above a garage 
on a farm, with a bed with 
electricity, a t.v. dvd-player enough space 
to be palpably domestic and as a condition 
of the room and the food that 
came with it, 
I was obligated to pick, harvest 
basil 
from a 
successful, shared 
un/owned field 
in rural New York. 

my fingers 
and enthusiasm for the work 
didn't keep at the same rate 
as one another. 
I sucked at it. 

but I can roll a joint with just 
a random receipt at least one-inch-by 
a few inches 
in length and a breast-zipperpocket 
and a decent shield 
from the wind, some spit 
a clear view of your own fingers, the 
purple hum of want shared 
gently in your 
bones. 

I'm sure my concentration outweighs my greed, 
but I'll keep trying, regardless. 





****

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