Song for 2 Phones
What is that?
The line outside
the Maria Bamford standup
we went to last year.
Send it to me.
What is that?
A sugar maple on the hill
shedding Gatorade leaves.
Send it to me.
Remember when
we weren’t allowed
in the bedroom? Remember
the towel that rainy day
on the beach?
You looked up
“defenestration.”
What is that?
I looked up
“transfenestration.”
What is that?
Send it to me,
send it to me,
send it to me.
Grass Pond
Outer Banks, North Carolina
Between the Cape Fear River and the Atlantic Ocean
it bristles with Venus flytraps, one of 761 acres
owned in fee simple by the state. This morning, a wind
the height of a semi tosses it about
in blown light the opposite of smoke. It will not be
a gas station adjoining a new-car lot
you amble toward before lunch
to buy a scratch-off, the $30 one
a hand can graze for hours in a glass cubicle
so the dopamine will find occasion to replenish.
