METRO LACE

III (continued)

April 15

Great game, the way Scott kept the ball on the

ground and never gave up a turnover

even with all odds against him

and the happenstance of his sainted ass

so obviously Player of the Year.

Backing in, the truck beeps.

These arenas share their prestige,

acquire stolen goods the way felons do,

aspiring to a convenient relapse

when all that could be said has been

and the vast, impossible ship went down.

All you stole went missing.

Waiting for a bus or a ride

to stop at your house is like posing

for a still life, all eyes upon you

and you frozen in space,

typing on that cute little thing

you have.  Pick your instrument:

violin, viola, cello, or maybe banjo,

whatever makes the strings vibrate

to the peculiar tremolo you call your own.

I'm taking a collection at the end of the show

because I can't believe it's really over,

the wheelchairs and hospital beds,

swings and songs and costumes,

the blonde in a bathtub, the mannequins

flaring like phosphorous in a cavern,

the bed spotlit and the maids in wigs.

This way to fun and excitement!

***

Hat held aloft to signal respect,

he turned at the door and was never

seen again, but that gesture,

romantic and a bit dated,

lived on as if to show us

we never take the proper measure of things,

simply wander through fields from sassafras

to sagebrush, knowing soon

the levelers are coming and then concrete.

Would you help me reach the highest shelf

or would you rather stir the sauce?

Be assured, we'll all get our hands dirty

before mother returns, bringing

some ancient relation

who will insist the sun

is mild, the children delightful.

Little suspecting how little you recall,

I spoke of moments

I thought we shared, only to find

you reading the program or off

on a quest for a spool of thread.

Whenever I remind my cousin

it was her dagger that did it,

opened the vein and made the blood

flow down the chair arm and drip,

she always feigns surprise

in the same manner, hands on cheeks,

eyes wide, mouth agape.

It becomes her, really.

***

Isinglass is both a mineral and a gelatin.

It can be used to see through,

and anything that helps with vision

is good.  Even eyepatches

serve their purpose.

I like the way the streets grow flowers,

seeming to signal a time of less reproach,

allowing me to sum up my vagrancy

as though a true calling

and not some worrisome métier.

Across the Housatonic the houses

send back the light, and I might agree

to any terms given, if only

I could live on this bridge

and face either side at will.

Then I might invite reporters

to my table, or perhaps

that wandering troupe I joined for a time,

back when the terms of employment

were less a concern, the freedom

to leave all that mattered.

In the time before her second operation

we occupied ourselves

with enormous holes in the yard

and often felt a tremor

as of underground pools receding.

How grand to stay in place

like an Irish wolfhound wading

in a stream, too timid to go further.

***

Jewels just get in the way,

judging by all the people bejeweled

and yet still thirsty for a straight path

to the cloakroom.

When Le Rossignol begins

he'll suddenly remember the phone number

he'd forgotten and see, as if via genie,

the exact person he imagined

picking up, taking the call,

and rearranging their lives forever.

Seeing Jen walk away, I nearly

called to her, but somehow

such intrusions set my hair on end,

always making me wish I was not me

when I'm finally spotted.  You know

how most people extend a courtesy

only when they know you can't accept it,

or when agreement involves

a vast migration or patient undercover work?

So large and empty these lots,

perfect for children eating pretzels

to cross from sun to shadow, though later

prodded by police and psychiatrists,

while on the counter the right ingredient—

was it condensed or evaporated milk—

awaits.  Your teachers will be so proud.

***


©Donald Brown 2010/2013