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Anyone’s Two Minutes

 

The moon is empty,

whatever else may be happening

in the change of setting.

He removes his hand

from the inner pocket of his blazer,

and it is empty.

Her hand finds its way

from her hip to his

and then across his back,

flat and moving upward

until her fingers hook

just over his collar

and tug just barely.

“I just thought,” she continued,

“we could extend to each thought

the courtesy of completing it.”

The small crowd

that had coagulated around her

broke into laughter. The ceiling caved right in.

Pure imitation is only possible

in the cult of authenticity,

for these are the flowers of our youth,

the cant of glorious magmas

instantiated in molecular puzzles

of personally offending highwire commentary

delivered in drollest New England chowder.

Exhale of concept.

The future of the worker is closing its doors.

It’s fine with me if nothing happens.

I expect some feelings of disappointment,

but they won’t encompass us,

not with so many dots to fill in

and the regular accomplishing of sentences

in the high-spirited yellow living room,

steam of small dishes

against the cold weather,

children’s desperation, a loosening

of screens, a face at the window

receding. The darkness,

as they say, abounds within us.

He choked to death on his own joke.

The dogs had some kind of dispute.

Choose a glass from this tray and wait.

She smiled from the corner of the stadium.

I borrowed this car from a sick neighbor.

The signs insist all they like.

I think we know better.

No one delivers a punch like me.

I can’t even feel my hands.

It’s been ages since I thought of this.

Please help.

We’re desperate for your love.

Revise at will and send on.

I can’t wait to hear what you think.

Then I consider explaining to him just how awful he is to me.

I lost all interest in ever saying anything.

I just sat there and took it.

I don’t expect to stay much longer.

I just don’t see how I could.

from To Literally You Find more by Paul Killebrew at the library

Copyright © 2017 Paul Killebrew
Used with the permission of Canarium Books.

Published in Paul Killebrew Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.

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