• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 09
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Visions of Johanna making it to the Wimbledon Semifinal

My light’s flicker when I turn the A/C on,
the egg pot bubbles from the gas fired stove,
See fans in elation for the first time since 1978.
Not as yet, I am told –
Ambition bubbles higher on 12th street.
Mirages like a poet’s quality beat.

The tape measure rules: Never stop creating. Even when the present diverges from a fantasy. Is Annie okay?

Pause for a moment and see, really look outside. Take notice, the rain coming
down, but we’ll be here a while – just us, dry, unlike the moist city sidewalks.
Let the cotton-silk drapery cover the #FF box, it’s too imbedded in the past.
There are no repairs at Paddington station terminal #4E.
The client never really wept, he only held a handkerchief for the droplets
Which, he then chalked up as complicated rain,
Letting go of the gerber-baby-grown-up-plan.
They’ll try and sell you anything you can’t steal.

But what about the FF – what if it represented something
entirely and utterly outside the bounds of an imagination,
and what if – as long as we are speaking in hypothetical – the contents inside of
the box were what this woman, and this seeming snooty connoisseur of a man-
never having given a thought to how this nation makes us look pretty ugly.


Visions of Johanna making it to the Wimbledon Semifinal

Further analysis warrants the thought that this is all a big mistake,
and deposing of the crooked and subservient minions
as onerously conceivable as flying overhead
with our feet far from the ground.

And though, for now, this room’s glow speaks too.
A bulb at our backs is out.
But the flame up front shines like a growing pyre.

Submitting words to an editor or a doctor shouldn’t feel so dire.
It would be certain, pleased to talk to them.
In about a year, another one for the cradle –
I wonder if I knew then what I know now.
It would have stopped me, ceased the wound prior to ever having left
blood on the tracks.
Feel the wind at your back
Afraid you are least expectant of nature’s chimes?
If that gust was felt when you were too weary to even leave your bed,
I said, not to tread.
You don’t need to be a meteorologist to know that the climate changes,
is changing, is getting faster and slower and heading toward something fierce.
I know you don’t have the answers
Don’t wonder whether the world has the answers,
It already does.
Now if I find her, I will first ask her
if I can go out and get her.
Na-na-na-na –
Those people who hear a voice outside and hope that it just passes by.

Lately you've inquired whether I'm not feeling like myself.