You read a will…
Ohio and California no longer have
To be distant relatives.
They could be friends
In an obituary…tousled with
The wrong patches on jeans;
Some dig up old photos,
Stick hearing aids in their eyes
To see the future.
However many yells will get someone
To close the garage door.
Too many of us have
Lumpy foreheads, tally charts on
Or we hoped that our children
Would. Earthquakes in our
Fingertips, not on fault-lines…
I’ve never felt one in my life.
We read a will…
Those ankles could have
Been swollen another day.
She says, “They’re not okay, but
They’re okay.” I didn’t
Rhyme to please anyone,
I rhymed to point out the
Wrinkles in a hyphenated nam-
e. Some die three months
After you meet them, some can’t
Decide whether they look better in
Scales or fairy wings…
And you don’t decide for them when
You drive a rental car, and still carry
Two cans o’ Pringles
From the plane.
We’d hoped “330” would grow fond
Of certain cell phones, and every voicemail
Would go unfinished because it had been picked
Up. Fortunately, area codes don’t grow on people.
I read a will…
And I shake a stranger’s hand
On Thanksgiving. I listen
To my relentless soliloquies
As if scripted to do so. I admit
I do not speak Turkish or Romanian,
I was never told
My blood type.
I dance in my own introspections
Because when I was born, the
Scholars had already taken
Their words to the clouds.
I yellow when fireflies play
Hide n’ seek without me…
‘Cause I’m a foreigner, and I don’t
Dim like they do.
I read my will…and all my
Money rains in the Mediterranean Sea.
They’ll all be drowning,
While I wait on the shore.