Wednesday, March 31, 2010


I was in the middle of a home coming
one more day before completing a contract
that had buttressed my pathetic fallacy
I was a warbler with feathered wings
when in reality I was staring at my hands again
grasping at fortune and not at the phone,
which I did pick up anyway;  and hearing how the
voice was a treble, sweet in my ear,
I knew right away the caller wanted money,
and sure enough, there it was, the Symphony
firing up its string section,

how to head off the caller at the pass?
take a tip from Bridge players, I thought,
draw from my knowledge of Depression-era film,
Paul Muni sweating on the chain gang in darkened eyebrows,
Grace Kelly wearing silver dollars in "Goldiggers."

instead, hoping to avoid the ten-minute pitch,
my voice stuttering in rippled potato chips
urging outreach not to waste
her perfectly pitched breath
nor strike bow to body without first getting
a cue; I denied being in the classical musical camp
even if I had sent in a coupon, once,
such things are feckless indicators of a momentory weakness,
and not a proven measure of interest at all.
had I actually attended a concert? well, see there!
then I let her have it: come Friday,
I was filing for unemployment

when suddenly she lay down her corporate directive
to sign up another member for season tickets,
she was most sorry I had lost my job
as we spoke of how everything these days
is terrible and then hung up.

I heard a birdie outside, a wren, I think.
Opened my refrigerator door
and looked for dinner.

Monday, March 1, 2010

More Than One Part

This is the part I don’t get:
  • Getting a return on execution
  • How to be search disabled
  • A greeter at WalMart with eyes as black as tadpoles
I don't get how a greeter at WalMart can upset my apple cart for not spending a dime. Accounting in the aisles is so lip gloss. I go back home empty-handed, my hands filled with touching. All is not lost, but why do I use my car remote to get in the front door? I don't know what door I'm going in anymore. I can only think, "If I want to know where I'm going, I need to get there."

Something like:
  • Not getting rick-racked on execution
  • How to be search enabled
  • A greeter at WalMart with eyes as black as tadpoles 
Here’s another part I don’t get:

A Statue of Liberty drumming up business, stopping traffic at every street corner. Dressed in Styrofoam with a green crown strapped to her head. Matching flip-flops. She's waving an ice-cream torch. I lick it and ask, “What social studies book did you come from?” Some answers may be:
  • Her ding-dong's in hiding
  • She's a woman pressed into perpetuity
  • She's the son of a CPA
The real Lady Liberty with her skirts of copper and hands of shelter would strike this impostor with an arch of her eyebrow. But here's the part I really don't get. How can a person lose love and not do a thing to get it back:
  • Something about the Law of Inversion?
  • Something about the Law of Reversion?
  • Something about a greeter at WalMart with eyes as black as tadpoles?