Life is an ersatz
form of salvation. The dean
responded to the mother of a distressed student as if he were
answering a complaint about pot-holes. If only he'd put the last
paragraph first; if only his grammar were better; if only he'd
avoided the verb “to impact.” Would his prose be clear as the
edge of a bubble my daughter blows? With a rainbow smudge, as if
aesthetics compensated for
cruelty?
My coffee comes of acorns, but I taste Columbian. My flour tastes of
soy, but that's my personal pronoun. I'm
grateful for what tricks me to attention. The gash of purple
flower-light against the Ko'olau, the fading coos of doves in fugue
with a
shama thrush--these
are a true imagining. I
cannot pare my senses down to none. A candlestick found
in the garden means someone
paid attention. Detectives
always share the guilt.
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