peaches and joy and chagall
I love to see the groom and bride weaving
through the chimney pots, soaring
like married kites. They make me happy
the way peaches do, dripping with sunlight.
Sometimes I make peach sandwiches on white.
Sometimes I slice peaches like hemi-cheerios.
Peach juice runs down my chin hairs. Joy
sticks to my fingers and my wedding ring.