by C. D. Wright

    Some nights I sleep with my dress on. My teeth are small and even. I don't get headaches.

    Since 1971 or before， I have hunted a bench where I could eat my pimento cheese in peace.

    If this were Tennessee and across that river， Arkansas，I'd meet you in West Memphis tonight. We could have a big time. Danger， shoulder soft.

    Do not lie or lean on me. I'm still trying to find a job for which a simple machine isn't better suited.

    I've seen people die of money. Look at Admiral Benbow. I wish like certain fishes， we came equipped with light organs.

    Which reminds me of a little known fact：if we were going the speed of light， this dome would be shrinking while we were gaining weight.

    Isn't the road crooked and steep.

    In this humidity， I make repairs by night. I'm not one among millions who saw Monroe's face in the moon. I go blank looking at that face.

    If I could afford it I'd live in hotels. I won awards in spelling and the Australian crawl. Long long ago.

    Grandmother married a man named Ivan. The men called him Eve. Stranger， to tell the truth， in dog years I am up there.