Tuesday, October 9th, 2012


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.


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