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.