The Blog

We are, in a public setting, comforted
by the lack of expectations 

until something awful happens,
an accident, someone choking 

on a peach pit, for example.
Or worse, something intentional 

but entirely unexpected, inappropriate,
the indiscriminate shooting of passengers 

on a train, for example. We get sleepy
in public. We fall asleep in the audience, 

lulled by the comfort of coughs,
laughter, the crowd breathing in and out. 

It all feels so civilized until
our favorite character, played 

by our favorite actress, falls
face-first into the orchestra pit. 

The show continues with no understudy.
Death grants us a private audience.

This is my first draft and I join team ‘Keep Sleep.’ 
My number is behind me on my uniform.
On occasion I feel the iron-on plastic’s curve 

and it feels like an eight. I might be an eight.
Our jerseys are off-white; our symbol is a pile
of fingernail clippings, slightly turned 

to the left. A lawsuit requires this.
If shown from above, the pile too closely
resembles the symbol for ‘breath.’ 

Our team colors are tooth white & brain-
white and diamond. Our cheer goes
like gin down our followers’ throats. 

Tomorrow, we play the team ‘Recall of Elephants’
who supposedly compete with their eyes fully closed.
On their uniforms they’ve scribbled 

the text of team movements in layers of grey pencil
on light parchment gear. It is said
they remember. It is said if shucked open