Wednesdays Two Circles
I count my weeks by protracted Wednesdays:
For you, Miss Julie, are incomprehensibly kind,
Asking questions which you should not.
I am all agog
Because of the shoes you wear,
And I can say, like a pre-Socratic:
“The first element is two circles.”
A rock, a stone says nothing.
I would liken you to a low cloud,
But to liken you to anything would be ludicrous,
And I must buy coffee now,
This being Tuesday.
I would tremble and interrogate:
“I like you. Do you like me?”
I am in eighth grade, and it is 1967 once more.
The black, blank, bastard sun rises—mocking me, like me—
Then says, “Adonis, poor Adonis: Adonis of the angels.”