Hobbies

I make knick-knacks from driftwood
windchimes, ashtrays, and such
then I give them away
I don't care for them much

I hit in the batting cage
until my hands have turned red
sometimes the machine
chucks a ball at my head

with Mother of Pearl
I coat grains of sand
with luster they glisten
then slip from my hand

I build ships in bottles
meticulous, utmost of care
when I finish I toss them
over my shoulder, somewhere

I throw kisses to women
whom I pass on the road
visions of wild oats
that I never sewed

I make paper airplanes
for sisters and brothers
some of them tend to fly
farther than others

in the dead of the night
I carve guns out of soap
my escape plans unfinished
crippled by hope

I write little messages
that I wrap around bricks
and heave them through windows
someone else has to fix