Poem
for Bruce

The doctor
           told my friend
He has
        congestive heart failure.
At the hotel
              where I am eating lunch,
Doubtless contributing
                  to my own
                      congestive heart failure,
Or goddamn
                something,

A beautiful beetle,
                soft grey and black,
Crawling straight down
                          the flawless window,
Doesn't slip,
          doesn't fall.

Copyright 2009 by Paul Hansen