Outside My Magic Windows

A dental bridge comes loose –
my cyber-server’s software has a glitch –
a tiny itch exactly at the center of my
back comes back, and back, and back –
the cell phone needs recharging
sooner than it ought to: all of what
I thought I’d brought to this shenanigan
of daily life – to regulate its gears

and minimize its strife – strikes new
angles: like that RCA dog tilts his head
and cocks an ear at some strange source
of sound: something’s slightly queer:
not unlike the weather that appears outside
my magic windows: softly awkward
and upset: a grumpy toddler who’s awake
before she’d like to be: a little

spittle at the corners of her lips as she
decides if she should cry: a kind
of juggling of the fragile light components
of Existence – slightly misaligned –
askew, a kind of abnegation, in the sky,
of blue – in favor of amorphous gray:
a fine miscasting of the play: outside
my magic windows come the oddly

wonderful, unnerving, and exasperating
imperfections of this day – as if
to flag me down to the array and notice
that it’s happening. My magic windows
will not tolerate cliché – or even
one slight whiff of smug complacency.
Bump into the blunt amazing grace
of place, and space, and see.



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