sounded like houndsteeth / crashing into one another on rain- coats / eclectic as the sound of rain- water / in Costa Rica: pst pst pst pst / or in Texas: yes. The scent of shaving cream, the scent of unwashed teeth, and I felt so / I felt so / so lightly full of openings / so much / stiffness jostling like locks / between train cars. Not like these borders / we / wish to beseech. You turned to me and said, I can’t put my finger / on it but I might as well / stick a thumbtack in that map / and, cloud, / string you along through every vapor. This is how I know the rain / in Panama: says tsk tsk tsk tsk / and in Jamaica, reminded / me of lit transparent / plastic / parkas we pulled from the first / aid kit when the sky / poured like a lift of / tropical birds. The car was rented. Or we didn’t have a car / we rode / the one-eyed mammal. The bus / sauntered lazily as a dew bead, he looked, he looked at us. He percussed / the books of his reflections for two / creatures tall & not quite / lean enough to eat / into like the rock- sands of Greece that pill into our skins the shape / of shadows behind cat hairs, and I do not / write about you for you / are not washed out.