They’re saying the fire started
a good six blocks from here. The general opinion
has Lee Street getting the worst of it.

This town is used to the end of the world
coming around on Thursday night.

The weather guy doesn’t even bring it up anymore.
There’s not a person here who can’t rebuild
with cardboard and good intentions.

I think we’ll be okay right here.
It’s going to be a long night whipping us
through the summer and into the winter poorhouse
if we suddenly start being afraid.

You’re much too devastating for that.
I’ve got too many jokes that are funny to everyone but you.

Between that and the usual electricity
we manage to sleep
right through
the weekday disaster and whatever god-awful song
is playing from every corner of the ongoing prime-time protest.

Besides,
this is the coolest summer night
I can honestly remember ever experiencing.

It can’t possibly be any higher than seventy-five,
and I don’t think you’ve ever looked any better
in one of those blue striped numbers that people
only usually see in old movies.

I also like the way it’s lending itself
to the way the wind is occasionally trying to talk
over us or anyone else who doesn’t have to say anything at all.

It’s a good contradiction. It keeps things interesting
for anyone who can pay attention to the low-key floor show.
Those cigarette voices that seem to come from under
some of the older houses in the neighborhood. The sidewalk comic books
that disappear every time the artist grows up and figures out
how to bring on the rain.

Noticing that stuff has never been one of my great talents.
So, it’s a good thing you’re quite brilliant at it
and have the patience of two saints when it comes to reminding me.

Try to keep this a secret,
but I think you bring a lot more
to the table than I do.

Though I’d like to think I’m decent company
on a quiet night like this.

10/09/2009

Posted on 10/09/2009
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