Did anyone give you anything?
Did you look away?
Did you leave anything, perhaps a toothpick,
with a stranger?
Even for an instant?
An electrosecond?
What interrupted your motion?
Whom did your body touch?
Did someone ask you to hold her baby?
Did you drink whiskey?
Was it easy?
Did that happen within a recent lifetime?
Did anyone glance at your ticket?
Do people walk a certain way?
Is that hair pure?
Impure?
Are you sure?
What is strapped to your thigh?
Why are words ticking?
Did anyone give you anything?
Did you look away?
Have you been asked this before?
Does it matter, your existence?
Whose hand brushed your luggage?
Did you eat a tuna sandwich?
Was it handled by a properly identified
employee?
Did you eat it promptly?
Are you certain?
Who shrugged at the enemy?
Did it happen since you exited a taxi?
Was it possible you missed something?
A fly on a distant table, dust,
that which passed for pleasure?
Have you a favorite sibling?
Tell me, victim, when your hand reaches out
in greeting, does it sound?
The noise, is it poetry?
from September, 2000 issue