Pass It On, III

Lilacs look neon in fading light. Death makes life shine: a tiredness, a flickering between ages, which is each age; a piling up to tottering and falling back to sand. So much for cycle. The front door lock sticks each fall when we’re first back. We are advised to oil it. Olive oil in the keyhole: again the old key turns. Once again to meander along the edge of water, whether tideless sea or tidal river, pushing the stroller, dreaming oil in the lock; the key dipped in lubricity the boychild’s shining skin me tired to the bone