I think my head swirls around a beer glass
as someone at the bar orders something
in a language I cannot hear, but I am a
Midwestern girl and I smile like I have been there.
I tell someone near me that every scientist
is a lover of devotion. Plants and animals they are
like a new baby, they all want something
that only a scientist knows how to give.
I tell the stranger my dad is a scientist. He
studies what the earth grows, but it is a place
I cannot permeate with this clumsy rhetoric
and my limited understanding of chiasmus in Joyce.
I am not sure how useful I am, I say as I take
a drink almost to a place of vanishing and
somewhere a sense of abandonment. I just
know words, I explain, and remember things like this.