Analemma

Even people can make u-turns, you said,
and I spent the first day doing just that.

The routine grew comfortable, comforting.

I waved to Mrs. N an even number of times.
It seemed to make us both happy.

Patted Mr. F’s crazy dog, but only once.
Even in this, limits must be drawn.

Pointed out all the fascist architecture,
or worse, baroque. Or even worse,
the fake ducks.

I was contributing in a new
and special way.

Spent a lot of time converting sunlight
to vitamin D, and back again.

I’ve heard of men going out for a pack
of cigarettes and not returning, and now
I understood their elliptical paths.

Soon enough, I started noticing sunrise
and set, the simple beauty of ant trails,
then the crazy dog died, which hurt me
more than I thought it could.

I wondered how long it would take
my heart to wear out, or maybe the shoes.

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