What Was That You Tried To Say
It comes knocking like a salesman travelling door-to-door,
peddling its humorous paraphernalia: Ah, here! See these
extra-long vampiric fangs, think how funny you’ll appear!
It comes knocking even though it saw you see it coming
from a house down the street as you sat on your porch
eating sliced peach. That dazzling sun. This plastic taste.
What was that you tried to say? asks everyone you meet:
your words scurrying away like too many cockroaches
in a room that’s just been opened; the light switched on.