he counted words

he counted words like a card mechanic,

always taking careful stock of what diction

had already been dealt, but he came to find

that he could not quantify the feel of fiction,

nor swaying hips, disappearing down a road.

fingers sat idle, softened and fading,

on the f an j keys.

the f and j keys

the f and j keys

fingers sat idle, poised,

to strike away at the silence,

waiting for words like children

running wild on sweltering august streets,

barefoot, careening onto the lawn, 

the cool and dewy dawn.