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WE ACCEPT
We accept that things have changed
Walk past closed shops to the movies
Little League fields hold an inflated white genie tent
For equipment, debris trucks
We accept that everyone
Will wear photo ID necklaces
Bags and briefcases
Will be searched, scanned, X-rayed
We accept that
Though we walk through all of this
We may still pass through metal detectors
To enter a building
We accept that we won't eat as well
Sleep as soundly
Or too many appointments
Will produce confusion, inertia
We accept that we will check exits
Crowds will make us nervous
The subway will seem
Like a target of captured life
Overflowing wastebaskets
Will be potential hiding places
Sirens will make us jump
Sudden, loud noises, will irritate, even enrage
We've accepted mountains of information
But so few facts
We've accepted being at the mercy
Of politicians who don't read their mail
We have waited for the other shoe to drop
Accepted ordinary people
Walking around in air filter masks
That everything is fine, for now
We've accepted so much, so far
Will we recognize
Or accept
When we've given up?
CONDITIONAL VERBS
You
thought you knew
Peat moss and cushion
A change of season
You thought you could manage
Opacity and camouflage
Its moody direction
Purposeful daydreams
You thought you knew the raindrops
The time between them
And their distance
You thought you knew the bell
And its meditation
A steady pulse in your neck
Under the tongue of desire
When need predated
The ordered assembly of Adam
You thought you knew
Who you were
My conditional verb
Changing the sky
Under a razor of light
You thought you knew
My heart
More poems from Vicki, as well as sound clips from her
new CD, Urban Voodoo, can be found
here,
at her main hangout on poetz. |