Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Best American Poetry

Because you’ll want to know,

What I’m doing is leaning against

the long malformed arm of a live Oak

near the little lake downtown. It has nice

turns of concrete sidewalk. The home-

less don’t talk to you, & the helicopter

behind the great central spume

hovers over only imaginary wounded.

The sign says one complete circuit

is a kilometer and thus the exercise is

of European design. The waddling

herds of Muscovite ducks really

terrify me. Their wattles nearly covering

the black seeds of their eyes, &

the stain of their combination shit

and piss are bucolic interruptions

of the city, warning: beware, animals shitting.

And the thought of giving over your lunch

demands in the seeth of their flipper

feet, the hook on the ends their bills.

Meanwhile, an organized gang of school kids

sets up to race around the pond

just as a line of ducklings marches

to the crossing. One homeless man,

be-do-ragged & scrawny stands arms

out to protect the ducklings. The meeting

of privilege and responsibility. The kids

just run around him, whooping. I’m

still a larch end leaner looking on.

& what about you, watching me through

all this? Aren’t you sick of this yet?

The hoary ducks, the predictable circuit.

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