where we hope to become better
where saturdays burn away
where we write poetry
where my wild boyfriend waits
thumbing failure by designwhere maybe he imagines what is left to learn about poetry
where a poet blows her nose loudly—twice
marveling at the library’s new architecture
beckoned to mull white walls criss-crossed by
shadows and light pouring from triplet oculi
while others screwed on every light switch plate
and others now check the circuits knowing
wires expand and contract with each use cycle
or simply wear out, like memories, like books
asking where are we now?
asking where are they now?
Artwork by Sir James Jebusa Shannon, ‘Reverie’, 1898