Things I think
I am good at.
Like looking at your face
one last time. Where did you go
all these years?
The star atop Harry Danton’s
Starlight Room
spins democratically—
then the phone rings.
Don’t answer it!
You came back
under the orange pipes
for fire emergency.
We had a fire
years ago. The
bathroom towels,
the ones on the very bottom,
still hold a trace of it,
like smoked ham
or turkey. An airplane
streaks through a
gorgeous sky,
looking something like a
grass spider. I used to
waken to them
walking across the
ceiling. Grass spiders
on ceilings?
Perhaps not,
but gray ones. Spiders
build webs,
trap other bugs,
suck the life out of them.
It’s only a memory.
You mean the world.
Some worlds may be
greater than others,
easier to recognize.
There are new commitments
to make, to try and keep, new
gems to unearth
and forget, different
languages to learn. A
few new faces to trace.
I love them all.
