The Middle Ground
Standing on grass I wait for a bus
that passes later each day. Today I see heat
leeching from the ground in ripples.
I can't see it in the background, and can't shift
the ripples any further forward
than one and a half to two blocks
away. I stare at a blade
of grass near my shadow to see
the distortion that would surround
me from the driveway if I was there
now. The blade stays clear, my shadow grows
darker. The closest I can see ripples are across
the street and down the block. I can't blur the fence at the corner
house. The sign at the end of the yard shimmers
but casts no shadows on heaven.