(for Dan Sheehan)
You send me the song
Late at night
it arrives ghostlike
And (after a lifetime on the net
It’s still so awesome the way it arrives)
Connected, the icon
Reconstitutes, drops its burden
And funnels into my head
Like a poisonous little secret,
Making the headphones throb
Pumping the pleasure of its own heartbreak
Celebrating the climax
of a thousand emblematic betrayals.
It makes me sad
To imagine that you have reasons
These tired, despondent narratives
Very funny, I type to you
Clowning in Times New Roman
And assembling a funny digital face
From disordered punctuation,
Did you just send it to me
‘cos there’s a 7-11 in it and I‘m Indian?
That exchange lies like strain
Behind the blink,
The glint lighting my smile
a few months later
On my very first trip to a 7-11
(After a lifetime in this country)
We need milk,
It’s 9:30 p.m. on a Sunday in New Jersey--
And it’s manned, in self-fulfilling cliché,
By two shy Indian men
The blankly blond kid
Wears a rock-and-roll tee
With Gothic curlicues
Is funnier than
James R. Kincaid, an English prof. at USC, has been writing in The Slate, and practically everywhere else, about how we are given to autom...
(Sorry to have been so solipsistic--although The Yunus Nobel and the Desai Booker provided the much-needed antidote to that : ) I have b...
Sunlight. arrogance sees, sleeps Now i understand: every thing you say. In the dark. heartbeat dee...
Friends and old neighbors shutting it down in honor of John Crawford. _
Yesterday at lunch with the awesome Pied Piper and an accomplished, pioneering writer whose anonymity we shall preserve, Piper turned to me...
Today is the birthday of the best sister in the whole world (mine:)! Happy, Happy Birthday, Chelli! [AA, my favorite aunt in the whole wor...
She knows that the child and his friend --another child-- read her words. She hides small messages of hope and love ...
Did the grown up thing and signed our wills today. Then I was in a bad mood for the rest of the day. All our year-long vacillations on the a...