for Helen Hondropoulos
Things associated with loneliness.
Things associated with love.
Things like reruns.
Things appreciating solemnity.
Things almost melancholy.
Things in front of me.
Things that you would think are behind.
Things left behind.
Things that should be forgotten.
Things left in a flower bag behind the tree where she works.
Things that sound like holy.
Things that are holy and sound like shit.
Things like game shows.
Things like relationships like game shows.
Things you can’t turn off.
Things you never wanted to turn off.
Things you knew you would never want to turn off
but you did.
Things you want off.
Things afraid of change.
Things in love with change.
Things afraid to love change.
Things like a pyramid.
Things in love with your ex-girlfriend.
Things in love with her letter H
and ancient civilizations.
Things that launch a thousand ships.
Things in love with Joyce Dewitt.
Things that are in secret.
Things that no one is supposed to know.
Things like telling secrets.
Things like feeling secure after telling secrets.
Things like a sermon.
Things like a sermon of secrets traded in for gold.
Things that begin with the letter T.
Things that are mistaken.
Things approaching forgiveness.
Somewhere inside our memory of game shows and reruns is the compressed code for human interpersonal relationships. This poem is a kind of mining for that code.