So when the narrator of my life
told me she needed a vacation,
what could I say? She was tired,
she said, and wanted to get away
for a while, preferably somewhere
with a beach and no children,
no poems, no dinners to make, no
lawn to mow. And oh, by the way,
she said, when I come back,
my rates are going up. Of course,
I said, wondering about the present
rate, and just how much I already owed.
Oh yes, she said, and while I am gone,
keep it straight. Present tense only.
No highfalutin’ language. Just the facts.
And spell everything correctly.
Even since she’s been gone, I have
this strange feeling that nothing’s
ever happened. And nothing ever will.
And that I am some stranger I’ve never
met living in a place I never knew.