For Display Purposes Only. David Seymour

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СКАЧАТЬ as a calendar sliding off a kitchen wall and the after-

       vacuum of implosion. With decibel fluctuation,

       distance and Doppler effect, reports varied.

      Between the houses backing onto the tenth green,

       aphids gathered all sounds within the 250-

       to 45,000-cycle range of their tympana

       and slept uninterviewed in the shade of hydrangea.

      The passing cab driver had the largest

       hippocampus among the onlookers, being

       the least lost. This was scientifically proven

       though need not be mentioned in the final.

      Others were directionless – what they saw

       they now knew had never not happened –

       wondering how they had arrived here,

       how here arrives. Post-storm light

      struck the police cruiser windshield,

       behaving as particles, or waves,

       depending. Even as testimonials

       hardened into notebook fact.

      Plausible rival hypotheses

       will arise in court. The incident

       began more suddenly than the victim

       expected, and will last much longer.

      Clone

      Four should be enough of me for me. No, three.

       They might not easily apprehend, but they can do,

       and doing’s the battle I get them to attend.

      To send them out with grocery lists and day-to-days;

       milk, bread, whatever I yen for between bread, they’ll even

       plate it carefully so I can keep on teasing out this stuff.

      Parties, several at once, they drink like cops

       filling late-month quotas, engage the feckless

       literati with The Phaedrus while I seduce their wives.

      That means course enrolment. Tuition. Tough;

       I learn to play guitar unburdened during

       their job interviews. Finally fangle origami.

      It’s a bit like being God, seeing myself from behind,

       askance in the way you can’t but want to. The sum

       of our actions define me while they live my lives

      as though committing crimes. Lately we don’t look

       each other in the eye. They’re not reading dictionaries

       in the off hours. Unfashionably late, on the skive

      at the local, making fools of me. Unviable.

       Soon and earlier than they think, with such retrograde

       expectancy, they’ll drown in the last air left them.

      So it’s a waiting game. Time for a fresh start; tonight

       I’ll hit the town and rake the coals they’ve left. I am

       going to wear my favourite shirt, the brown one. Or am I.

      Cyclops

      There are envelopes with plastic windows,

       they won’t stop searching for you. Feeling owed,

       when the last shopper’s off the streets in bed,

       your late carnations on the kitchen table fed

       with 7-Up for perk, the kids asleep unwashed,

       each blind eye will throw another unabashed

       glance, and find nobody but the television left on

       long after the collector had rung the bell and waited,

       his watch face, and his own, unmoving, wan.

       Not that there was much else he anticipated.

      Dialectic Concerning the Deity’s Benevolence

      The bus is moving awfully slowly. Has it slowed down?

       You know, of course, if it continues to move this slowly

       we’ll have to get off and take a cab. I feel that the bus driver

       indicated through his body language that we’d arrive at

       the route 12 connection, though he never did verbalize this.

      Jonathan, you have to stop focusing on the bus,

       it’s something you can’t control, and you’re causing

       yourself unnecessary stress because of it. Try to

       think of something else.

      I know, it’s just very difficult to stop, when I can’t tell

       whether the bus driver understands that the bus needs

       to be at the connection to bus 12 at 4:00 p.m.

      Jonathan, please try to think of something else. The bus

       and the bus driver are beyond your control. He needs to rest

       at the main stops in order to keep to his schedule, so that

       people who are expecting him at a specific time

       don’t miss the bus because he’s gone too quickly.

      I know, but it’s very hard. It’s difficult to stop. At least

       my obsession will stop in, oh, six weeks or so. Maybe

       he’s prone to slowing down through this section of his route.

       He may be inclined to do that.

      Jonathan, please stop thinking about the bus.

       Why not try to think about more constructive things,

       or more pleasant things, like the sunshine?

      Yes, the sunshine is all around me. The sunshine is blah.

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