There's no place to spend our money where we live.
The generous world suggests we live generously
so we lay
under low wide branches
of the oldest tree on the dune,
or in the hay,
where we will stay for so long without moving
that the careful birds finally relax
and make black nests in your black hair
and find ants walking around my unmoving feet
and we will only notice this play of the world
that long moss is growing on us
that that wind has rewritten us
the give and take not stopping ever
for only a moment
and then, having breifly noticed,
let the world roll on, doing this,
through open gates.