chirp, chirp, chirp
my phone wants to tell me something.

a blue bowl overturned on the porch
and scattered popcorn kernels
are their calling cards.

massive and still,
her eyes flicker through the room like a moth.

meandering conversation in the low bleachers
lightly touches on this subject and that.
the big lights softly illuminate the green field.
suddenly a strong wind
that drives stinging dust into the eyes
and the cool touch of fat raindrops
sends us running for our cars.