April 10th poem

(collaborative poem with Todd Colby; revised today)

Track 28, 2:45 pm

The instruction manual was etched in glass,

and made a sound like a mouse or a dreaming
woman making small squeaks in her sleep

when you ran a fingernail over her parent's teeth.

Her parents adored her and it showed 

in their well-faded jeans and moisturized palms.

They all smelled of coconut oil and sandalwood, 

as per the instructions.  As per their understanding,

suffice it to say chemistry textbooks have many

excellent images for making collages, which is

why she failed the class but won at compiling 

spray adhesives.  All the while, this mystical
being was ensconced in a wondrous world called

"what New York had become." Which is why I am

a principal in Atlanta. During recess the dogwoods

did sway in the wind.  They did sway and I did
sway.  Thank you for coming in this afternoon,
Mr. and Mrs.  Buncombe.  I sorely appreciate

your children and your pie. There will be a day

when you forget my name, but I'll be dead by then.