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At the Chase Street light, landing on the hood
legs delicately arced out, wings folded upward
a dusky beige underside hints at the topside pattern

On Boulevard, trees arch its width filtering sunlight
pinpoints fall on her windsurfing thirty-five miles an hour
bracing against metal, balancing on those spindly legs

Next right, I wonder at her reluctance to take flight
her patience to stay with me, to hold her position
those dun wings, one eye meets mine

and she vaults away in a jerk
landing on the sign to my right
blood orange fanning open on "twins."