the washing-machine repairman asks
if I’ve saddled my sons with biblical names
on purpose the plumber presses me to admire
his sculptures the electrician wonders
if I have skills in patent law the driver
of the propane truck desires geographical
wisdom the contractor inquires about the fashions
of poetry the plow guy wonders if I know
where he can buy a bag of pot
the blacksmith suggests I should join the Party
of Decency the cheerleader
is desperate for good news
my father wonders why atonal music even exists
my husband has given up believing
that I will ever get a job the old lady
shrieks, “Why are you all so mean?” a child asks,
“Does the chicken like to be eaten?”
the monster creeps between his unwashed sheets
the wrestler demands his ransom money back
the vision wishes it were God the wind
never stops whispering
cold