Hammock View

eaned back in a mingle of ease and poise
in a dollar-store plastic patio chair,
he stares down the afternoon sun
from behind sharpie-black sunglasses.
From the waist-gap of his loose shorts,
his boxers chant “Gap” around the band.
I smile, amused,
and wedge a blue-glitter painted toe
against his white plastic throne.
I set the view in a steady rock,
sway in this cozy web beside him,
and watch the world pitch and roll
around my hammock.