-the puddles of April, 1950-

there were lots of puddles after the downpour,

but I’m drawn to this one.

it’s not as big as the one

in front of  "Cipollini's Macaroni Shop”

but it's bigger than the one

across from "LaCava’s Autobody Repair".

 

I’ve counted nine worthy puddles viewed

since the rain calmed in the early afternoon

after the late morning announcements.

it’s raining, but lightly,

and reflections are skewed due to pinging

raindrops adding a rippling effect to the images.

this is the puddle laying in front of the house: black as an ink-spot,

metal-scented, rainbow smeared in leaded gasoline spillover.

this is the puddle which lays inward enough that if I moved
my torso over it, I wondered: will the tenement house behind me be reflected

as slipping across a black hole's face, or sinking like an asbestos moon into it?

Fall River, April, 1950.

sure to say, I no longer have the inclination to do such things with puddles.

but, I can say this.  ("this" is to be read with a sliding pitch and refers to the poem)
and I can say that.  ("that" is to be read with a sliding pitch and refers to "I can say this")

Swansea, July, 2017