CITY BEES

I didn’t take down the scaffolding tonight.
What’s your hurry? When you dip love
into nectar, honey becomes a crust.
Beneath each kernel of control is a cob
of cost. I mistook your cut hydrangea
for a match. Once,
I approached her without clothes
but she didn’t even ask how I was.
I wouldn’t have told—
I, too, was high. On life.   
Did you set fire to the car? Nowadays,
people don’t even hang up.
Or wear pants during meetings. 
Spontaneity? We were so poor, I thought
McDonald’s was a real restaurant.
Better slow than sorry.

Kenton K. Yee’s recent poems appear (or will soon) in Plume Poetry, The Threepenny Review, TAB Journal, BoomerLitMag, Terrain.org, Hawaii Pacific Review, I-70 Review, Constellations, Valparaiso Poetry Review, and Rattle, among others. A PhD in theoretical physics, Kenton writes from Northern California. Follow his poetry news on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/scrambled.k.eggs/