pearl & olive skinned, grout black at its cloven
base strung with horned seed fruit the size
of ice cream scoops scarred pinballs, merry and plentiful as Mexican hatbands
and as quickly lost
arbutus you say aloud and think
of Arbuckle of poor Fatty of the many histories of ruined stars and
stop at a familiar corner step off pedals & pinch brake handles look and glide
over worm white roots teasing water from gravel, from clay
half a block later