Midnight in the Museum of Desire
Just another visitor. Holding his newspaper as if his life were inside and loaded.
We’re still looking for the handles. (Mother said I’d catch my death.)
I want men like that to be tremendously unavailable. Their toys are talking and not
talking and talking. Their courtships include only desire and waiting. Like oddly
disturbing normalized and therefore oddly disturbing. That’s why it’s a museum.
It’s not the raft and not the finger-cot. It’s the baby rake attacking indispensable
and involuntary. Blade of bird, snippet of donkey. Its laughter is busy ironing.
One of us is not and the other is is. It’s a winter I keep in the garage, somewhere
between the beast and the powdering away.
Who are these visitors with all their smarmy facts intact? One at a time, they
admire the empty exhibits. It’s a generous anomaly. It’s made of mouse and comes along
quietly. (They don’t have my God. They don’t have my leverage. They don’t have my big
My sister wears her narrow waist outside her pants. Here’s particles, here’s
calamitous. The sisterhood is waning. Are my pants happy because I live in them? (We
play paraplegic football and eat air sandwiches. We’re still looking for the handles.)
I don’t want to investigate the odors of its religion. A splinter of what-if-it’s-not
lodged in its creature throat.
I want the agnostics to quit thinking about it.
A couple times each day I want to charge the ocean with trespassing, dump a
restraining order on the suspect wind. It’s not a case of fucking the wrong fucker, but
then neither is it entirely pleasurable.
What I want is a brushy fawn stud-shirt against my front side with something
substantial not all that well hidden beneath. I intend to surface. I intend to be where I’ve been.
I want to listen to the Ronettes or Andy Kirk’s Clouds of Joy. I want to witness
some underwear from the wrong side. I want to witness them good.
Rich Ives is the author of Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days currently being published in serial @ Silenced Press everyday in 2014 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.