And of course, that banker on the ledge:
“They don’t worry about a thing, the dead!”

Convenient, all these travails,
how easily they are compiled.
And we pronounce our lives tragic!

I sat at the bedside,
as I’d seen my sister do.
I told him things
I never dreamed I knew.

I am looking at a movie
In which the monster is
Never seen—so far.

This one
I have glimpsed
on and off for years

That I sit all night
Charting the fathomless possibilities of failure
That I am out of work of course

Things, no matter what they are,
Can get out of control.

The left leg normal
one could say optimistic
a little too short