It is no miracle, she says.
A husband drives a way,
the world clicks shut
like a little dead door.
If I could go to a movie
that lasted longer than my life
it might be alright.

I was born on this street,
the man who shot himself in your bathroom
was my first friend.
My mother closed the shades
when the ambulance came.
A dish is dirty, is clean, is dirty,
what song is this if
it’s the only one you know?

Don’t tell the trash men
I’m here alone.
Tell them we’re late sleepers,
the curtains stay shut
so we can live like kings.

On your side of the fence
iris float their silken heads.
Over here the rose is a stick forever.

You say I’m lucky to know
two languages. What good are two words
if no one can hear them?
I’d take one tongue if it fit me,
I’d wear it like the postman
wears his suit, so people know
what he is doing in the world.

Walk up and down the street
delivering smiles.
I say no one is lucky.
We have faces, they get old.