CXI.

(If you have ever quit an imaginary job over an imaginary pay cut,

mistakenly taken your house's thermostat for a dial

with which to focus the windows,

written a play about the special relationship that blooms

when a withdrawn honor student is assigned to tutor

the school's basketball star,

fallen in love with the woman who plays the part

of your character's wife and bears you a child

that can communicate with rust,

been deafened by the panoply of voices in the classifieds

tied up every private detective in town with false leads,

taken photos of people saying "shut up,"

or know a place where you can get married at midnight,

then you know what I'm talking about.)

part of the poem from David Berman's book Actual Air

From Cantos for Michael Michener: Part II