No Falsie, Again, and: The Woman at the Philadelphia Furniture Show, and: Performance, and: Nap

No Falsie, Again

Moonflowers don't likepink pocketed camisoles.Morning glories hateclear plastic tits.

Fall's first chickadee singscreepycreepy. In a prosthesis-stuffedbra, I'm a horse wearing harnessand bit, driver pulling one strap

for right, yanking another for left.I exit the shop (second attemptto look nice and normal), swingingno sack—shirt loose, free, flat.

The Woman at the Philadelphia Furniture Show

Before cancer, I might not havenoticed her collarboneknobs, raccoon eyes. NowI try not to gawk amidpolished wood dovetailsin convention hall spacewe visitors walk throughon imperfect joints. My

friend buys a quilt, skyto spread on her bed. Up ahead,the woman—skin gray,pants loose—picks up salad forks,wide maple mittens. Perhapsher sore mouth can crunchtoday's lettuce leaf. Strolling,

I see each person shimmer—hand-crafted, exquisite,brief.

Performance

Naomi Kaise gets stuck, can't findthe note. Plump shoulders slumped, she triesagain—tee dum, ta dah—gropes—blindman's buff. We twitch, we fry,

our turns next, parents listening. She criesat last, slow silent tears plink loudupon the keys. The teacher helps her slidefrom sticky bench to seat. Somehow

we older pupils play by rote, bow.My Schubert serenading done, I takesix cookies, gulp pink punch, vowto quit before the next recital date.

Outside, Dad lights a cigarette.You're off the hook. I. Can't. Stand it.

Nap

When I wrote about Dan spraying Jon,his neophyte dad, during a diaper change,my husband Claude (who once taughtsex ed)

told me that penis comes from feather,cunt means wedge. Some readers gaspedat the words I picked. Maybe I should havesaid

weenie or peepee, written the baby'sfeather sprayed his pop, but some might nothave understood. David, my pal and Jon'sfather

(type wrong and you've got feather), witnessedthe spurt—just like the wetting Jon, as a newborn,had given him. Quoting David, I chosehosed

instead of sprayed, wrote pissed on, as in I'vebeen waiting 35 years to see you get et cetera—notalcum

on David's speech. Olga's diner stood for Olga'sbreasts. A few didn't grasp her diner staying openall night—asked, What do you mean? I said,Take

a guess. When Claude gives me a kiss,suggests, Let's have a nap, he's sayingthree little words—diner, feather,wedge.