Plain American Language

I cut a sliver/of WC William's finger
and placed it inside/my philosophy...

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Not tomorrow but soon I'll teach my students
about nuance, nooks and crannies
like a young child's hands, clenched
and dripping with fudgicle sweat--
meanwhile the child drips, content,
accepting. I used to think that silence
among two people was awful--
not knowing how to move from one end to
another, thinking, then, about sex, attraction,
interlaced eye contact like gradations of
color. I was constantly adrift. Now,
when I think of things and am with someone
who blinks at me like crystalline winter,
which is her laughter, which is, sometimes,
cold, I don't mind silence: it is part of the process,
the coming up with the idea, the forming,
then the coming out with it: firestorm
of I think I love you or we're missing
soap in the bathroom. Transient night
in Washington, D.C., such transience in this town:
we are constantly disappearing, books
being written, only backwards.

No comments: