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where Vietnam vets peddling circuit boards have been replaced by immigrants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