He uses big words,
but mispronounces them.
Searching for the deep 411,
he finds again, then again, the 404.
Sometimes his thoughts
feel like escaped and empty
barges, tugless, piled on the locks
and dam until a flooding river recedes.
Has a wife who won’t have their children
rip his clothes in strips after his funeral,
then sew them into a quilt to wrap
herself in when she misses him.
He’s an extra passing through
a brief background in a bad
movie being filmed with
an unloaded camera.
