Start with something easy: the fan, blowing
air across the room on a hot day,

ice cubes collapsing in the glass, making
a sound like bells or wooden marimbas.

Add voices on the phone, the radio
in the background (another suicide

bombing), the distant sky between the trees.
Wildfires on the horizon. Add time.

What you wanted was no less than the truth,
something you could hold lightly in your hand.

What you found was this uncertainty,
memory mixed with desire. How we live.