Curtain Call (from “Trees: Collected Poems”)

My house was made

of second hand wood and colors

and built like a magazine cover.

A man, ready

to jump into the river

with a rock tied around his neck,

shoelaces tied together, I remember

what I want to say; I am a teenager

on my first date!

Patrolmen sit behind the smiling

Lady that smokes filter brands on the lighted board

down County Trunk G, waiting

for my cue.

Tonight I am someone who has lived

in this stage-prop house and upon hearing

slapping noises like hockey sticks

kissing a puck, I wonder like a child

to department store mannequins, if

houses were built stronger —

would people pretend to be

themselves.