Hashberry

Words like marine bells and well sounds
gone without a proper name innocence
longing not to mention what’s for dinner.

Alone with a book no means to look things
up the fine print singsongs see you see you
read me me eating a bowl of vanilla bean

ice cream with cadmium blue hashberries
while watching the Seattle Mariners lose
to the Houston Astros a book on your lap

on top book a medium green Fiestaware
bowl of raspberry sorbet with chocolate
ice cream the same bowl your father used

while watching the 1959 new Los Angeles
Dodgers and the moonshots of the 1960s.
Then there was the matter of what to do

with the things of summer forlorn and sad
surfboards out of water and wet towels
sandsalt swimwear and wornout sandals

and radios caught in riptides pulled to sea
we drifted with the flow abandoned stuff
not the toys and all but their decorum.

The hashberry an opaque pearl swallows
light into its creamy purple gloss happy
cleavage like rolled baseball bubblegum.