this is at the site, but i'm falling in love with james tate's verse all over again.

these days everything sings of reunion.


10. of "Absences"
James Tate
 

I was confused
then I got used to it
as I got used to whiskers.
The laugh is bitter & forced,
flat as a hungover Sunday school teacher
all beat-up by the blight
of the truth of the night before.
There, apologize, for thinking.
A pinched and brittle smile.
Throw a handful of magic
purple dust in my eyes
so I can see the last straw.
All the time I am afraid
the children from my childhood
will get me, my whistling
hot fantasy:  those were great moments
in somebody's life.

I look at the ceiling,
then turn and avert my eyes,
and say exactly what is expected of me:
the days just come to me.

Why aren't you in my way?