It’s just my good fortune -- otherwise,
hard to explain --  hard to believe the chatty way

it pokes the air. Or how it takes charge
with its good blood warmth,

sure of itself.  Or how it sways,

and the stiff linked bones in my spine follow along.
I was at the gym when it started to grow and I said,

why not?  A tripod -- that’s a strong base
for anyone, isn’t that true?

of knowing and not, the place called Iraq and how my car is a bone in my body, which God
might remove before I do it.  And of all the things I haven't learned yet: who is Jasper Johns,

how far can I walk and can tomatoes.  Oh the list is long, a terrifying lifetime delay;  how to
make button holes, for instance, the terms of NAFTA.    Where to put freeway noise.

Words are alarms.  Try on  “Axis of Evil,”  does this apply to my wobbling spine which is doing
its best,  or theirs which is surely the same give or take a tendon? My axis comes

downstairs to make coffee,  is my work not good enough yet? Does it all depend on the oil
supply for my car.  I think you can take them out surgically.  And then the official words,

there are so many. National Debt!  Inadequate parking!   Senile dementia.
I am afraid I’ ll be the one who goes on long trips to the other side of the year, looking for

Christmas --

who waits for a car that came yesterday, and left.