There’s a tree he remembers
in whose branches
are many rooms
hidden by the leaves.
If he finds it, which may be soon,
he might have to call from below
for someone to set down a ladder.
He thinks he knows who lives there,
all his old lovers, even his wife
he hasn’t seen for a while,
one happy family.
How long has he been gone?
How far into the desert could he have walked
in his bare feet and without a hat?
Now in the distance he sees
a shimmering of green, he hears
the sound of water in the leaves.
“Sweethearts,” he coos,
putting his hand on the trunk.
But the tree is shaking violently.
All around him, small birds
are falling out of it,
singing off key.