Although the wonder that is blogger.com seems to be acting up in not posting my last couple of marvelous messages, I'll post this anyway.
So there. Here's some words to taunt you! That is, a poem. The first draft of this was written June 9, 2001. The second draft was written...well, now.
Lightning
I.
There's lightning in the faucets, child --
Shock you out of the bathtub someday,
Screaming and wailing --
"What was that?"
The walls hear right through you, little one.
No doctors or professors measure our air.
Threaded buildings unspool down our block.
II.
Rufus left one morning,
Music stuffed in his backpack,
Posing for the owls in their scholarly smocks.
I tried to follow, child,
Wading through the crowds.
Traces of light oozed away.
The days scattered through his fingers and
I tried to catch them.
Hearing laughter in the next room,
I trace onto this page
The box this summer built for me.
These shoes and friends for two months then poof --
Turn and wink, Rufus.
I'll wave back.
III.
You can't understand!
No one grasps my tender torment.
The self-pitying days
And spine-stiffening nights,
Told only in words
Folded by machine.
"That wasn't necessary"
The machine says,
Gears and cogwheels rolling on the street.
"The sun'll come out tomorrow."
IV.
Still, child --
That tune'll change your head.
Make you stay up past your bedtime,
Fending off the the world
With incantations and ziplock bags.