1
          At first when you leave town,

the dog and I maintain dignified silence.
          After no more than two hours
I’m talking to her, after three
          she’s telling me the story of her life.
I nod my head at every word,
encouraging her
          to take all the time she needs.

     2
          I have the vice

of courting poems.
          Pathetic, I know.
I also like to watch Oprah
          if no one is around to notice.
That’s right,
          I court poems, I watch Oprah,
I even let out wordless sighs late at night,
          and call them
my spring fields ploughed, my ready earth.

     3
          Sitting quietly at dusk, I’ll admit

my life goes like this:
          dark branches
scratching the still darker window.

     4
          “How are you?”

I ask a  woman at work.
          “I have no idea,”
she replies,
          sounding pleased with herself
at the heartfelt ness
          of her own bewilderment.

     5 
          We don’t know,

can’t possibly know, 
          never have known,
never will know.
          We just don’t know.