An Ideal Place

Due diligence dances
down at the meat market.
Coffee in the morning or
whatever way is customary.

Say, “talk to me.”

Yes.

Tell me how you really feel,
if you know,
you know what that is?

That is your life.

Take any normal set
of old playing cards.
Take any old
phonograph record.

I didn’t know that
you were afraid.
It’s just the water,
and the sound of the fan
in the freezer,
and the spot
on the Formica
that has defeated me.

It takes so little,
so little time,
so little money,
but I shouldn’t
have any trouble.

There is always
that book of matches
in the drawer,
right next to
the steak knives.

There is, of course,
always an ideal place.



© LW Publishing 2010