He lives in Germany and I am impressed
he got out of the weather and learned
a translation for delayed and fog.

I am like a letter or a book, translated,
waiting to be retrieved. I’ve not seen him
in years. His weather, I hope, is warm.

We’ll take a coffee and he’ll translate the menu.
We have a lot of weather to talk about. Remember,
we went to the river: sam, don, mary and her rocks.

We chewed the rocks like dogs, worried
for our teeth. Last time we saw him,
he’d had his hair translated. It said

he is not the man we used to weather.
He never pushed a car from a cliff,
I never pushed with him or took his girl.

I only took her sailing in bad weather and
I don’t know how this has been translated;
how he’ll color my hair when I am collected.