We are upheld by small waters in our ears,
kept an even thirty-eight degrees, give or take;
one hundred pounds plus – assured equilibrium.
More evidence of things beyond our control.
Maintaining thirty-eight degrees, more or less,
despite the rain that drove through your jacket
(further evidence of things beyond my control)
you got into your two-door car, and I walked home.
I remember the rain soaking your gray jacket,
my heart counting its usual seventy beats per minute,
you in your car for two, me walking home
pretending that answers are things I never look for.
Beating seventy times a minute, my heart,
withstanding one hundred and twenty pounds of pressure,
pretends that answers are things I never look for,
even in the small waters of the ears that hold us up.