Dad

Bury it in the documents. Dad will have been glad
to have his papers fattened. And I too! You know
how I love the notion of manilla. About how I love
the casters of an old grey Hon filing cabinet.

What did Dad do, essentially, in work, or in life too?
Why do I think that it's possible to find what I think
is implausible to find in my own life—know that it is.
Know that the small strife of getting to work, thinking

of calling a friend, regretting something, is what life is.

Tattoo

(for David)

had a friend once who got a tattoo on his elbow;
drunk! The guy daubed quick at the bone
and said that "it seems to be bleeding a lot," and
Mark grinned. It really's just an economy of want.
But what's not? And that hand was numb
for a month or so—like a funny bone—and Mark
was afraid that it'd never feel right again, and it did.