we flew up into the trees

to tie knots in collected red wires

we flew back down to where we were born

in a green ammo can from the army surplus store

we returned again to the swap meet

where Vietnam vets peddling circuit boards have been replaced by immigrants

we flew into a downspout the television cable is now drilled through

we looked at spider webs inside a hollow gray beehive

what is a simpler home than a discarded beehive? what does rent cost

to make your home inside a retired gray husk

felled from dormer eaves and held in a popsicle hand–

she ran up to you, holding the hive, hands sticky

then showing her in the garage, this is how you clean a revolver

and, can you look at these parts and know how to put it back together?

the old convenience store a block away is now a trap house

where our Brittany Spaniel was once tethered to its steps during a walk

the old banks of a neighboring curb have been graded under

no longer my bike ramp; power lines hang the same

C130s have the same noise with landing gear down

flying over mowed lawns back to their base

exhaust settles the same on southern facing roofs

and we fly back into trees

near the center of a retired cemetery

near no new dormers being hung

near no new holes being dug