all the different things you can mistake for a bird

 

Now the trees are a burnt sienna.

As songbirds move north over the city

you return from a trip east with your arms  

full of tomatoes, a new shirt. I am discerning.

The tomato was once said to be noxious

for leaves akin to deadly nightshade.

I don’t blame anyone-- even tonight

there are storm clouds on the radar

while the ground is dry as bone. 

I don’t care whether you see a cloud 

or a flock of birds: when you look at the sky

I see the underside of your chin.

We learn migratory birds burn muscle

for water during flight, not fat, and it is only

the leaves of tomatoes that can kill you.

Look how knowledge doesn’t expand, it

changes. When we met you were wearing

a different shirt, the trees were an asparagus

green, and I was with another man.

Tell me, what will you cook with your tomatoes?