Don’t be so oversensitive.
The curtains will be put up in good time.
The shadows from the cage around the
windows falls when the moon is full.
Am I swimming?
My hands are cold when I ride my bike,
but I never think of buying gloves.
The moon was full two nights ago.
Today is a sign of
It will not go down in history,
but someday, my son will say,
“mom, were you alive when it was
11.11.11?” and I’ll say,
“Yea. I was.”
And he’ll say, “where were you?”
And I’ll tell him I was in Union Square
waiting tables,drinking tea with Ngonda,
before her trip to the Congo,
babysitting for the Wasko’s
on the lower east side.
How do I remember?
I wrote it down.
I write it all down.
Your buttons are now a poem.
Each small victory
howls at the moon.
Somewhere, not far from here,
a man is painting on his napkin
with soy sauce.
The woman behind the counter
Removes dirty dishes from
He keeps painting.
I am her.
The sun went down
two hours ago.