Golden Gate

Rainbows burgeoned over the old apricot
I was watering, showers of tiny red leaves
leaves feigning rejuvenation as I fell 

into some weird trance where friends shed
inveterate habits, hobbled along
with canes, comfortable in their flab.

All went fine until their glib repartee
struck home. I lost my bearings.
You were hurt. I took fix after fix

on shooting stars. There was no choice.
I unleashed the hose, let it writhe
across the soggy lawn. Hoisting 

my sacroiliac up the tree. Chary of tart
fruit, I gazed with watering eyes
to the isthmus
 of ocean, aching for an out.

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