he likes where she has gone in recent days
this digging into the past
the smiles of farmers with capped teeth
the greatest man alive
the money burning
and the selfishness of the gods
the doctors taking blood
but shes right
she understands the mother
the way she invests her soul in the small things
he thinks she is seeing that in her as well

it is all the small things that count

without the small things it all becomes a blur
without the details we try to hold on to
things just go as numb as the sky in Taipei
in January

time knows us better than we know ourselves
she laughs at us when we see her
walking away from the garden
the glimpse of the a young naked girl
before she disappears into
large fronds of tropical splendor
she
time
she knows us
as they say today
"there is no there"
she was there before the garden

he loves that she gets the small things
the devil is in the details is what
they'd say in an empty class room
after the lecture
and the sound of seasonal fall
in the maples
made a dry sound of leaves
outside the third floor