Luciana Arbus-Scandiffio

Today I Saw a Car on Fire!

 

Today I saw a car on fire and it made me think of myself.

First, the car had been stupid. It burned because someone burned it.

I couldn’t look with my face, so I gathered my swim shorts and left.

The field was burning now, too.

Only no one knew which town the field was in, or who had the jurisdiction to decide.

All the lines that had been drawn had gotten erased.

All the mayors were dead, since before the fire, so the field kept on burning.

Then the swans came for the parade that had been scheduled months in advance.

The swan handlers were also swans.

They kept flying into the fire and honking their nose horns.

The parade was attended by everyone I had ever met.

The fire became a city, then a friend.

Now I am less like the car and more like a swan.

I fly towards the heat.

 

Picnic at the Swamp

My mother (the opera singer) spreads fig over whole grain,
points at nothing, loses her ring to the egg salad.

Another day, another luxury sandwich!
The sweaty oak forgetting to carry home the mustard.

Mom is asleep in the car. Mom is drinking Silk
and folding a tissue into a swan.

Time to go food shopping, or to the great state of Montana.
Either way, the mouth fixes itself.