What's that?
That's a school.
What's that?
That's a honeysuckle.
What's that?
That's a fire hydrant.
What's that?
That's a mountain.
What's that?
That's a fire escape.
What's that?
That's a tiger drinking water from the palm of a child.
What's that?
That's a volcano shouting "can you hear me?"
to the astronaut eternally tethered to Mars.
What's that?
That's a dime-sized dimple.
What's that?
That's a little doggy making us all feel better.
What's that?
That's a little house with chimney smoke.
What's that?
That's a gallon of soy milk forgotten
under the hood of a car.
What's that?
That's a costume for a play about healing.
What's that?
That's a giant river collecting names and places
along its winding journey.
What's that?
Those are the names and places we've been.
Are you a river?
Come again?
Are you a river?
I'm not a river.
What's that?
That's a rainstorm, like a little wig that
sits on a sad zebra's head.
Are you a rainstorm?
Come again?
Are you a rainstorm?
I'm a rainstorm.
What kind of rainstorm are you?
I'm the rainstorm that fills the river.