Spring 2006
Certainly the ushers who pass the baskets know me as a miser.
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When I walked in, the kids applauded. They were like, “The poet’s back!”
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He could see I was American, but I thought he was unlikely to harm me.
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I floated in the tub, my head bobbing, until I felt slick as a seal.
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The engineers seemed ripe for mockery, some more than others.
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No one answered. I turned to his parents. My stomach felt on fire.
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We’d never had a cross word, but I’d never corrected him.
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