I freeze up when the phone rings now.
The Wok Shop guy couldn’t deliver our
dinner because I kept looking at the phone
as it rang. (The
dread of I keep thinking it’s
the employment agency?
It’s about a job?)
Let’s bring ourselves back to life, shall we?
It’s Saturday and we toss poems at one another.
One-on-one poem-toss.
Sounds romantic. Coco
stinks us back to reality, shaking it all off, fresh
from the box. I’m not alone because the cat
is here with me.
I stare at the words long enough they dance
around in the living room until exhausted.
They pair off as they settle, reassemble.
Watching porn with my family during
the 1st Iraq war
Computer stuff at the Tease Emporium
helps convince me that I am not alone.
People are dying in Salinas and else-
where but I dance until 3am in an
ocean filled with guest stars, co-stars
and other ravenants.
On Sunday
(which is of course where we are
at 3am on Saturday night) I
compare notes with vegetables.
This, along with the sound of
electricity. And the
tap-tap-
tapping of keys on a laptop
(which is special because
it’s a symphony that I
get
to compose). Helps con-
vince me not only that
I am here, but also that
I am not alone.
