It’s muggy here, inviting
sluggishness, there’s not

enough boxes to pack anyway,
decisions can be made in

a week, a few days, there’s no
need for reaching, grasping,

the breeze moves me, that’s
all. Outside the kid from

upstairs is doing soccer drills,
first touch and quibbling about

fairness. Even here the grass
is starting to yellow. His feet

beat the ball like a drum, ready
to put it in the net, the goal

of motion always to come to rest,
even if it doesn’t know it.