Issue 192, Spring 2010
A Pleasant Apartment in a Friendly Neighborhood
Nearly anyone who has ever spoken to me may know me better than I do,
it is really not that difficult.
You look as if you have dug
quite fully into yourself though, standing there with your pictures
of jokily costumed skeletons amongst your more clumsily tasteful
selection of museum catalogs from around the world,
rummaging through your range of anecdotes about
mishaps in your small bright slice of garden,
and bathroom renovations performed by quaint but steely bands
of immigrant artisans who you genuinely liked and were liked by,
but who then burned away on the limitless, careful
while you hold in one hand the idea of justice,
and in the other the remote control, of course,
and watch the wind watching you as if you were a flower to be dug up and devoured.