The Daily Invasion

Today
the eye of yesterday
blued sky
cataracted white
the next morning.
We walk
measured steps
from the honeycomb
to the notebooked fields,
holepunched bruised
by daily invasions
of boredom.
Shake, honeybee shake.
Dance me a story
of a boy who felt
the stings of your kisses
with the pound of surf
drumming the Long Beach
sunset
into his jaw.
Hum me a squaredance
to a place where
the sunflower sways
and arms uncut
blossom fingers
to catch
the grassy trade wind tide.
World of this world
you get so far
from me
each passing day.
If I trace
the snail's
silver thread
through the gears
of routine
will I find you
waiting for me
in garlands of sand
and robes of saffron?