It Can Never Be How You Planned It

Broad buttercups
of the neighbor’s magnolia

from the new backyard, hello
nice to meet you

and how many springs lately
I’ve cursed those blooms:

the season when some
creatures decline

to ride the next turn
’round the sun.

As for me, I’m glad
I drove for hours

to meet my friend
to see my favorite band

up close on a small stage.
To see the dark blue lake

and the even bluer lake
and the terrace

filled with sunbathers
in sixty-five degrees.

I’m glad I took the tour
of other people’s memories.

He said here we are
walking around in it

the day everyone waits for
all winter

and I leaned against cool marble
in the shade

wondering: To say hello
or wave goodbye?