Prayers, Portraits, Post-Its (14)

Joan's View

“‘I can't keep my windows clean,’
he says, and people nod okay
and keep on drinking or whatever,
but he keeps on saying it,
‘I can't keep them clean. No
matter what I do or try, they're still dirty,’
until it becomes embarrassing,
because of course they all
know that about him, his windows
are dirty and he can't keep them clean,
it's practically the first thing
you notice about anyone
–why harp on it? The harping's
just more dirt. Dirt on dirt,
until your window is everyone's
window, sights plugged in it,
faces swaying like fat carp,
and as the moments of drastic
silence deepen you can feel
everyone just trying to creep around,
creep around or crash through
that smeary pane he's put up,
out to where a cricket is chirping
and you don't even need to see
and pailfuls of moonlight
and that fresh lonesome
smell is coming up from the river.”