Except in rare moments
In just the right light,
I cannot fully see those things
I love. This is common
And is one reason people wear watches.
I don't own a watch,
But I love thinking about
Owning a watch. Actually,
Buying the watch is what thrills
Me. I walk into the shop.
A Swiss man approaches.
He says I will be pleased.
I am pleased. I don the watch.
I am uncompromisingly bitchy
On the phone with my Mom.
I look at the watch.
I look at the watch and am comforted.
This is not the kind of comfort
One feels when taking a warm bath
After a day of shoveling manure,
Not even close. On the scale
Of comforting things, it barely
Even registers. The bottom line
Is I can rarely ever see anything
Telling you I am thinking
About nothing, nothing,
Just concentrating on the road,
On the wall, on the picture
Right in front of me
Of Allen Ginsberg in the rain.
And it breaks my heart a little bit
That I can't tell you about it,
That it is my mystery,
The shadowy, but convincing,
Lie that glues the trees to the cement.
Dan Chelotti response to art, economics, and Country Music not paying him for his poems.