Daily Poem: April 11

Fun elegy



Matchless closed years ago now, for one
reason or another.

(Running makes you tired and cooking is an ordeal
and you wake up and think
you’re burning the house down.)

It was full of the kind of guy
who’s always overhearing things
then saying he didn’t.

Like, “I’m staying at so-and-sos,” but then
you ride the bus all night,
and two months later
this fucking guy’s bringing it up.

But whatever, it’s gone
now, and he’s gone.

Outside, there’s a burning sun
sweeping the ground just for you.

Think of all the ways you can get burned and dirty,
even though you’re weak like a password
and every story starts with you
sitting in the tub, mouthing the instructions,
paddling idly, benign and doleful,

a mallard in an impeccable gown.