The part of it I see

The part of it I see

the part of it I see is not the shaky little hand waving stop stop in front of our eyes…
the part of it I see is not worth the words spent on describing it…
the part of it I see is hidden inside the late afternoon Sunday blackbird song, breeze playing with the summer heat wafting, wafting so take me home…
the part of it I see is a load of friends in a car laughing at nothing in particular…
driving on the way to nowhere we can remember…
only an awareness and sense of ice cream that never seems to hit the mark…
even though we expect it to every time…

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