Mechanics Club

Constantly edging the mechanics of it is best
without noticing, as we must not talk
of the mechanics of it: just do it with sleights of hand instead
like a fantasy we cannot mention either, because, it’s…

Well, it’s real and not real, then, isn’t it: just do it
I’m not sure when. And then the cat went out roaming all day
only to say, sheepishly, I… I like your fur
after all: fair enough! Don’t stop giving it away for nothing;

leave a smidge in there without opening the bureau
in the loft, the key at the other end of the hallway.
And no crude jokes. And always listening.
And feeling belittled? Feeling anything? Do something

about it in the mechanics without saying anything!
How else can we put it? It’s like
letting a comet think it’s tricking you, when really
you’re in a lodge with your hand between your legs

pretending you’re taking photos of it, when really
you’ve seen this flash before—they haven’t—
because you’re the space rock that got it started, dude. But care
to change its schedule in one go? Let’s get

that old telescope from the bureau
after all! You’re making my face own up
as it stiffens—pouts—like it should: I was never supposed to be here
and now my religion is going. So let’s face it:

if you’re going to be a brilliant discoverer
of what seem to be comets, you must
know that observation does not happen in a vacuum
with an acute telescope like that.