Copyright Page
Title Page
The surf was running high
The lace was already loose
I neglected to consider my jacket
I almost forgot the watch
But I always miss my watch
But my car is a kind of clothing
Actually these were not
That is why I let it slip
So then—I told myself
There are five keys
The smallest brass key
I was suddenly troubled
My wallet is companion
My driver’s license photo
Beltless, pockets emptied,
When the dermatologist
I stood in the living room
I had loosened my tie
By all rights of course
The wind buffeting the building
A growing fullness in my
Some gulls were flying
While unbuttoning my shirt
But not yet.
So forgetting to pick up
I completed these thoughts
The bed was unmade
My arches had begun
My fingers sought out
I had slipped my left
My haste to return
I shivered at these
I bent over and picked
I stood. A warm glow
A manta of short dark hairs
I found myself pacing
Another lull came in the wind
The distance was short
I would choose a high tide
I paused at the bowl.
The booklet listing the tide
The wind beat against
But I had slept or dozed
I knew that though
My black low-rise
My intention had always
Left thumb behind the narrow
Something in the wind
Of course I might
I picked up my watch
The apartment stank
I pulled the door closed