I am the same age as salad in a bag
months shy of kisses with almonds
like plain but harder and better
when the best was for space
and I was for that
and freeze-dried ice cream
and the simulator in the science museum
and the sense of when a building
is a monument and being in it
and a diner where insects
get in my shorts and I’m fine about it
my age now is about when I am not coeval
with cars on the road
but still equal to trains
howling on their way
holding my body in bed listening
for the rumble and roar
supposing there is a train
suppose there is
the shadow of its voice
in my helm and the kitchen
and where it follows me
around the house
there’s a shallow end
to the life of every sound
the send off of every joyful voice
I go to my room
when I sleep I’m bigger
and wake up how I went to bed
in the night I’m not tired
but bigger still
get up and dressed
ready to eat and watch
.
watch and belt and sweater and shoes
lighting up even and
never as sped as my heart
