1776

MAKE IT CLEAR WHAT YOU WON'T DO

A lightbulb with the word baseball,
A tree emblazoned chide me.

What a love
That mailman is,
Bundled up in
Neurosis. There is
Just no hope,

Down the hall a chair squeaks
Like an infant zebra.
Who knows what stripes
Mean class? One boy

Is looking off to the side.
The others are dreaming
Also. They have the moment
Painted on their eyelids

And the violins
In their cubbies, soon
Enough each will
Hug the nothing
Tucked there
Until it makes a tone.