Tag Archives: The Leanover

When I brush my teeth I think about dying
and how the seafloor's dissolving
and how it rains a blanket 
so we stay inside, my posture 
as bad as a gallon of water.
Dad voiced a half-thought
It is good to wake up—
He thought of the lake, saw the news
and stopped. The year so far
is taro chips, movies,
"The Leanover," 
and accepting at last 
that I am not a good reader. No, I am 
not ready to enter the world again.
Will a good jacket cure me?
A phone call for once?
A frozen swim? Will the fish in the trenches 
know I am better? I'm relentless,
the shaker, moving the clock,
all to say 
at the end
that I loved it.