1245

OF ALL THE STOCK MARKETS TO WALK INTO

The books are back home, crying,
And there's a wastebasket with its bag hanging out,
A white line reflecting down its pantsleg,
Heaps of papers, tickets, and bags,
A frog full of cotton and a lock full of key,
A rolling ahem I call an airconditioner.
All these so-called things and more, but what I am
Really noticing is that when I cross my left leg,
Lean my head to the left, or
Watch Zoolander, it feels as though I am
In a strange part of town. Everything
In the universe has handedness, they tell me.
They are the jellyfish people;
"For us it is whether we spin clockwise
Or counter." I am alone tonight,
And not yet tired enough to tell you
About the waking dream I'm about to start seeing.