Wresting an alphabet

                                                                                         For Rachel

“Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven,

Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign,

But I of these will wrest an alphabet

And by still practice learn to know thy meaning.”

-- William Shakespeare, Titus Andronicus, 3.2

Today I read the street

Like an alphabet.

I heard sighs

Almost a chorus

And yes, in a way,

People were holding their stumps

To heaven.

There were winks and nods

And there were many signs.

What I read was:

Everyone was sick

With loneliness.

Everyone disguised as one another,

Flinching in the anticipation of pain.

And still, this agreement to love.

I could tell who finally cleaned the bathroom. 

I knew who was about to confess to an old lie

And who was dreaming up another.

I could read last night’s love-making in people’s eyes.

I saw a man secretly smell his finger.

I knew who would cry

Reading tonight’s newspaper

And tell no one

Tomorrow.

The dream of winning the lottery

And purchasing happiness

Was powerful among us.

In a girl’s face

I saw the president who

One day

Will remove my dignity

Like an appendix.

I overheard

A teenager reasoning with his pimples

A man thinking in Swahili

A teacher rehearsing his resignation.

And still, this agreement to love.

I invited everyone to my house

For a good laugh.

I walked my lobster in the park

I gave away my 15 minutes of fame.

I jumped out of my skin and into your arms.

                              -- Panama, 3 April 2005