Each morning he carefully made his bed.
Nothing was ever out of place.
The red blanket was spread evenly
at the end of the bed,
and throughout the day the things
that happened happened
in precisely the proper way:
a pair of headlights lit up the road
behind him beautifully,
a walker waved her arms
the way they had to be waved,
the stain on his coffee cup
couldn’t have been any better,
two pens sat on his table
where he had placed them,
his students were flawless teenagers,
while his bed sat in his bedroom
with utter correctness.