Friday, January 25, 2008

PERFECTION

This morning he knows

that everything is in its place.

The police station is where it should be,

as is the little library,

as are the streetlights,

as are the cars that came

to their proper positions last night

and rested there.

His school is stretched out on its hill,

as it always is,

and his classroom is quietly letting itself

be carried through space

in its assigned place on the planet.

Even the pencil on his desk

hasn’t moved, hasn’t tried

to do something better for its life

other than simply lying

just where he left it.

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