Walking At Milky Way Place

During those twenty minutes after lunch,
I was walking on the path named Milky Way,
thinking about spring quiet in me here and now.
I tried to defer some mild uneasiness, and
wanted to diminish the bewailing something.

(We were Odysseus in those years, it doesn't sit
here, it will be remade. We both have to take,
one measure of our worth is the love or scorn
we just received.)

While watching sunset across the street,
nothing else the spring has will, but my eyes will,
and sometimes my mind doesn't care. A sketch of
you and poems, they lace together, the first line,
last one. Bus windows opened to the sun.