Ben
Schwartz
-
2 poems -
Building
A Really Fast Car With 500 Postage Stamps
Ali, to get us into
perpetual sunset at this latitude, it needs to go
seven hundred and fifty miles an hour, but it won't have to go quite
so fast if we start out in northern Canada. The thing is, I don't
think there are many roads up there. I'm not even sure the sun is
visible above Vermont. Perhaps at this juncture, the best course of
action is to ask some Québécois. I'll phone some first-thing
tomorrow
morning. Are the schematics what's keeping you from returning your
calls? Anyway, I've got the scrap metal and ball bearings whenever you
need them.
A Poem to
Someone Living After an Acquaintance Dies in a Car Accident
The picture of you
laughing at the flaming bank is how I choose to
remember you. Not pitching a fit at our campsite in the Florida Keys;
not demonstrating the French Inhale. I choose to remember lemon juice
falling on swordfish steaks under your fist; walking through an unlit
baseball field, telling me something about what your mother was like
I've forgotten.
