Sense of it

I only write poems on the bus anymore.I sit far in the back to be alone.I mark black things on white things in a black thing.I try to make sense of it.

Every time I see a plastic bag in the wind I think:This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.Most of my life I relate to something on the TV:This is how I try to make sense of it.

The Talking Heads song “Stop Making Sense”is about a girlfriend caught cheating and willed oblivion.The song’s real title is “Girlfriend is Better”but lying about it is a way I try to make sense of it.

The day after I lost her I found you again.Your face made a plastic bag of my heart.Your eyes were the wind pushing the bus forward.I couldn’t make sense of it.