White Board
We write our names alive— sometimes I’m not sure. I won’t tell you what you already
know. You can check the math. Bitter—is that somebody’s name?
Nobody I know. It’s like signing in at the doctor’s office. Isn’t it?
If Lynn eats it, then, well, so do I. 7:01, 3/16/2014.
Story problems always stumped me.
Each letter of my name is a ghost.
I can say with some certainty
that the Pittsburgh Steelers
were not here, huddling up, or not.
I knew a woman named Butch once.
She named her daughter Penny Coin. They always write somebody
plus somebody, but never an equal sign You might say all that on the right
is a bunch of scribbles, but damn if it’s not the map of my own heart.