there are other faraways

where bicycles are all old
and strangers arn't strange
the three brothers smile at the other two
and clean fresh fish slapping the deck
laughing in the crisp
laughing in the crossroads by the tiny silver leaves shake dewy
bread. make leavened bread every strong morning
bread is hope rising. bread is like her hands.
the eight long blocks cut past the cemetery
smelling the hot coffee and the cuban buttered love
thin grilled laughter
and hope rising.
golden
mermaid give morning your children. eat the bread and ride
that old bicycle not getting your scales dry
in the hot sun close to the sea. bread for the catch.
bread for the deck hands. coffee
in the south
it's crisp 5am
brothers. smile at the mermaids. know
your spine, know her
bicycle.
it's a faraway that 65 miles can't swim without butter
and hot coffee
so bike there, stop. cradle the warm bread and smile at the mermaids' brothers
with their 6 toes on each webbed foot
and go home. go home
go where you do not leave the sea far salted
and boys are all mermaids who sing for their souls
bread is their dinner and coffee is the bloodline.