Impressions
A Poem
Did they give it to you, too?
The impression
that all of life’s explained.
They gave it to me,
and they seemed under it too,
the impression.
Science, that great magic,
describes what it can,
names things for how
they appear in the light.
And, so, I was
under the impression
it all was explained.
(deja vu, and history,
and intuition,
and shipwrecks and sleep,
and photographs
of people
who look a lot like aliens,
and the sea, and,
of course, the mystery)
(It isn’t)
It isn’t, at all,
all explained,
so, should you be?
So, should I?
Do not ask.
Watch me laugh at your joke,
listen to me say
my sister’s name.
I learned you by the way you
lift your voice up on the phone,
I know you from the things
you refuse to give a name.
Don’t make me explain myself.
I don’t look the same out loud.
I’d rather just leave
an impression.
