April 17 (poem 16)

“van hymns in the rearview mirror”

I never guess them quite right before I meet them;
people are always different sizes than I expect,
different shapes than I anticipate.
I thought Michelle Tea would be bigger or at least
jagged enough to account for the glass fragments in her writing;
I expected her to be more canine and less incisor,
less hearth and more forestfire,
more rollingpaperzines and less ms. magazine
but she is fold-up size,
wrapped in tattoos like black lace
and all she really wanted was one
good night’s rest.