I wasn't there when that guy told me
I could build a house from
wine corks
and live in fragrance and velvet
at my headboard and doorbell.

Sometimes I am missing the obvious
specialties like the reach-
around after sex and smoking my cigarette
too soon...too soon.
This guy I know is an excellent spooner.

Or maybe my socks are too tall
to wear to the beach
in leather velcro sandals and Hawaii
on my shorts. I think I know to swim,
at least, to one edge of the planet.

Mom wants to see my new apartment,
nestled with its reasonable tenants,
because she doesn't hear me--
she's getting deaf so late in life
that she begs to see me forever.

These things are model-sized life,
exact die-cast replicas
like the Deathstar in Star Wars--
The daintiest of exit signs painted
to make leaving a breeze.

Right now, he thought,
right now she sees me.
When she crosses her legs,
then swishes
her heel to dangle
over her kneecap,
it makes the heart,
or something pulmonary,
flutter slightly.