bearing on the glory of love

There are twelve trees on my block.
The bus stops at the third tree,
I drop my coins in the slot but
I cannot pay for you. The driver
gives me a transfer which you may have
if that will help, but you should know
—I can't eat sausage, or cook yours,
or talk to your uncle, or return your overdue
library books. I am a very limited person.
I like deciduous trees.
And you must not burden me with
current events. It's bad enough knowing
Stacy didn't really get that black eye
from a cupboard door. So do not expect
too much. I cannot feed your animals
or operate your garage door opener.
My vessels are worn, my teeth chip
easily. Darling. I have been thinking about
this seriously—and there are some things
you should know. It's cold out.
I never go inside.

Copyright © 2008 Deborah Bogen All rights reserved
from Crazyhorse
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission