On The Occasion Of The Unveiling Of A Statue Of A Representation Of The Feeling Of Estrangement

A man with his back to the window

wonders where that noise is coming from;

the one that sounds like a 45rpm kitten

being on played on 33,

not the noise like a throbbing hum.

That one's from the refrigerator

and he already knows that.

Inside a helicopter thousands of feet in the air,

the man on the radio tells us about the traffic.

When we look up we can see him

but he can't see us.

Inside his head, he's thinking of a woman

and the way she hooks her bra in the front

and then twists it around

and then kind of shrugs into the rest of it.

He loves that.

A woman moves her eyes away from the screen for an instant

and that instant is multiplied,

falls away faster and faster

until it becomes itself a blurring mosaic of fossilized moments,

and there is coming now a sound of applause

that becomes the sound of waves.

Her hand is poised above the keyboard;

it floats over all the letters and all the numbers.