Carmen’s inhalations like a slide whistle
thanks to post-flight sinus, a gentler
crescendo difficult to imagine. Not to steal
from Sean Maguire, but it is the imperfections
that reveal the wonderful truth about
perfection – that no one desires it, not really,
not once they’ve seen the other. She flies
to distant locales in this America
and tricks people into acknowledging love.
It is a marvelous and exhausting living,
but in lieu of snores last night, a whistle
that nearly drove me out of bed to obtain
a recording device, so perfect was the
scoop up to a major third. It is of course
rude to ask, but have you ever felt anything
like that? Donald: why does your wife live in NY?

1 thought on “102.”

  1. I know little about Sean Maguire, J-P, but this thoughtful poem reminds me of Gregory Bateson’s definition of information, “new of difference.” Bateson’s example was something like that of a pothole in an otherwise seamless road surface: we only notice difference. Failing to notice an altered world, we can’t adapt to it. Or as William Bell (who wrote “Born Under a Bad Sign”) first sang in 1961, “You don’t miss your water till the well runs dry.” There appears to be a whistle in New York that Donald is not noticing.


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