I Wanted To Be A Veterinarian, But

I Think Of The Chimp, The One With The Talking Hands. In The Course Of The Experiment, That Chimp Had A Baby. Imagine How Her Trainers Must Have Thrilled When The Mother, Without Prompting, Began To Sign Her Newborn. Baby, Drink Milk. Baby, Play Ball. And When The Baby Died, The Mother Stood Over The Body, Her Wrinkled Hands Moving With Animal Grace, Forming Again And Again The Words: Baby, Come Hug, Baby Come Hug, Fluent Now In The Language Of Grief.

My Job ... I Do Nothing, It Pays Nothing, But - You Guessed It - It's Better Than Nothing.

I Meet A Person, And In My Mind I'm Saying Three Minutes; I Give You Three Minutes To Show Me The Spark.

Then The Children Went To Bed, Or At Least Went Upstairs, And The Men Joined The Women For A Cigarette On The Porch, Absently Picking Ticks Engorged Like Grapes Off The Sleeping Dogs. And When The Men Kissed The Women Good Night, And Their Weekend Whiskers Scratched The Women's Cheeks, The Women Did Not Think Shave, They Thought Stay.

I Sleep With A Glass Of Water On The Nightstand So I Can See By Its Level If The Coastal Earth Is Trembling Or If The Shaking Is Still Me.