Fugue

New house. Old chair.
About to take a shower.
That same old dream comes knocking.

Fool’s gold. Maybe mica.
Hollow in a boulder.
Monk’s hood. Tiger lily.

Deadly as water hemlock.
Nightshade. Western rattler.
Sunrise after sunrise.

The valley. The morning paper.
No end and no beginning.
No substance. No foundation.

A good supply of fuses.
Ripe tomatoes. Red bell peppers.
Maybe tacos. Maybe pasta.

Clean white sheets and dirty windows.
Not much purpose. Not much pattern.
But enough.