Suitcases that are being filled
with something. A lamp
in your babysitter’s dreamhouse.
My wife just died. I just got divorced.
My wife and I are separated. I'm going
to jail.
I've just experienced the death of a close
family member.
I've injured myself and I'm ill. I just
got married.
I'm getting fired. I'm experiencing
marital reconciliation.
I'm retiring. There's been a change in
the health of a family member.
I'm pregnant. I'm having sex
difficulties. I've just gained a new family member.
I'm experiencing a business
readjustment.
I'm experiencing a change in my
financial state.
My close friend just died. I'm changing
my line of work.
My mortgage was just foreclosed. I've
had a change of responsibilities at work.
My son and daughter are leaving home.
I'm having trouble with my in-laws.
I'm working toward an outstanding
personal achievement. My wife just began working.
I just began school. My living
conditions have just changed.
I've revised my personal habits. I'm
having trouble with my boss.
I'm changing residences. I'm changing
schools. I'm changing recreations.
I'm changing church activities. I'm
changing social activities.
I'm changing sleeping habits. I'm
changing eating habits. I'm taking a vacation.
It's Christmas. I've just committed a
minor legal violation.
The dawn falling and the shoes tucked neatly in the shoerack
Is Amir Kenan. The soon-to-be-washed dishes speak of him
To no end. “Amir,”
they’ll whisper in the dry cycle, “Kenan.”
KENANOPOLIS II
Amir Kenan enters
your house and you are relieved.
He speaks softly. He waves a wand. He never leaves.
Not really, but a tiger in a drawing above, say, my
bed tonight just – poof, you know –
Escaped.
No warning; no Tiger
Warning. No
Tiger.
Oh my god – I’m sure the tiger was pictured there, I’m
sure,
Etc.
A cockroach, I really thought he was dead, and
I tapped him with my shoe, and
remember now that he was upside-down,
and I swear to fucking god he started
walk-crawling upside-down.