Sunday, April 15, 2012

A Poem, First Week in Easter

Seeing the celebrated actor
with his dimples and his abs
reminds me yet again:
     brains and beauty
     seldom bike in tandem.

But seeing Meryl Streep
makes me think:
     if she were a poem
I'd read every syllable
with delight.

And every night now
just as dark falls,
     a rat
comes careening
through our Judas tree:

Day moving after day,
night following on night.

The graphic: a picture Steve took in May 2005 from a café window, of a band marching down a street in Köln--why the band and why the celebration, we didn't know.

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