RAD POETRY THANKS BARRY GRAHAM
for Barry Graham
There's nothing wrong with being quietly astonished.
Feta baked right into the bread, the woman who steals
chalk with her thumb, cute girls in wheelchairs and
librarians at the disco. Barry, you're an emperor of
cheese and a Mickey D's apologist, which is great,
like my roommate bought these jeans off EBay,
but they didn't fit her, so she gave them to me.
Little cares whether you do, but it's hard to shrug
authentically, the world moving in bengal tigers and
hyperthyroids, like one person will demand you shave
and someone else will break a shot glass in your sink.
But weather is the opposite of history. And/or
March is great for seeing people you met in a bar
fight and thinking: Wait, I sort of punched that guy,
they look nice, I wonder where they got that
sweater, isn't it too hot for sweaters, what terrific
wind, maybe I will say hello and we can reach in
to graffiti exclamation marks and emoticons over
our memories. Maybe this will be the day I finally like
metal music because it's so nice out and I can't
think of the reasons why it's so tricky to just like
everything. There must be some. I think I ate them.