After all the Shakespeare, the book
of poems they type is the saddest
They were never handsome and often came
with a hormone imbalance manifested by corpulence,
a yodel of a voice or ears big as kidneys.
In the airport bar, I tell my mother not to worry.
No one ever tripped and fell into the San Andreas
Fault. But as she dabs at her dry eyes, I remember
those old movies where the earth does open.
goes by at 1:00 a.m. two nights of the week. I can
hear the feather whoosh of his machine and see
one red light.
When the Lexus hit that pigeon, he lay there
beating his one good wing against the curb
Walking toward the library, I pass three children
staring down at a dead crow and daring each other
When I come in, my mechanic is eating
lunch. He doesn't look over the top
It is small, holds only a few boys and girls
and smells like graham crackers inside.
"That panting on the wall"
really was the most interesting line