What I’m Meant To Do
Linger in hardware stores
among the male and female
electrical plugs unfold
a napkin in my lap as the plate
is presented before me
smoke a Cuban cigar
that makes me dizzy take
the bus to the end of the line
only to find it’s not far enough
sit in front of Rembrandt’s Lucretia
until I am Lucretia
inhabiting her sorrow fall
asleep in the comfortable chair
the little volume open the last
words entering my dream
speak for the insignificant
memory the one we all know
the light in early spring the way
the child we were comes back
goes to the dentist to personally
cancel the appointment then
that sense of endless possibility
you know that luxuriant wasteful
sense of possibility in spring
