that is how I think of the organ
turned over like a mound of dirt,
sleeping and awake, earthly exhale,
between two ham legs.
You would have thought
there would have been a lesson,
a mandatory course, the steps to work it out:
we give tests for driving, circles sliding
into streets on edges with sharp corners.
Keep those eyes moving
crosswalks, jay walkers, signs and lamps,
with heated color swatches
interspersed with cool
but in this terrain,
this murky bush,
this hot house of sweat
with pheromone bomb,
we walk along
huddled and frightened,
amused and alarmed,
learning by feel,
electrified but dumb,
deaf, and blind
in the dark.