when called on to read, 

I was in the same metabolic state

as Ham on take-off

        *

sparrows always at the fragile conjunction

of staying

or going

        *

he never knew the square footage

or the date of anyone’s birthday

        *

dandelion puff ball

going somewhere

without a wish

        *

I rode in the little yellow bus

with Der Witwer

        *

the nervous son of a nervous father,

taking the heat, the white stones refused

        *

who I think I am

in the teeming rain

        *

he was the genius

of nothing worth knowing

        *

mistrusting the rungs

of the ‘borrowed ladder’

        *

for my benefit,

Wednesdays and broken lifelines

        *

listening to Teen Angel

over and over again

        *

stopping him before he could say:

 ‘Sorry for your loss’

        *

she’s overprotective of caterpillars

and runny noses

        *

saying the distance between stars

as if I understand it

        *

the ones who laughed

behind my back

Bio: Patrick Sweeney is a short-form poet and devotee of the public library.