i wish i was pow

about eight feet up,
the Rylance/Rudko (94) was usually reliable
having still functioning the following keys
– I W S H O P A Z M –
and indeed now a woman in jeans and a white t-shirt
(it’s usually more Lees than Austins here)
with a foothold on Willis/Smith (02)
scrolls in a piece of paper and pecks away
the gummy clacks perforating the quiet
of Fort Sheridan in summery swelter

then there’s me,
leaning against the Hoskins/Sher (81)
pressing what’s left of the space bar on the Irons/Bryant (09)
and though i’m really here for the Hoffman/Reilly (00),
i’d settle for the Reilly/Hoffman (00)

the idea was given to Shepard by Peter Boyle
(Jones/Boyle (80), about halfway down, on the east side)
and though he wasn’t known to be a sentimental man,
Sam collected one from every production
from Broadway to the one in the back
of the coffeeshop at the other side of the
St. John’s Bridge in Portland, Oregon,
where the play was punctuated by the
drive-in box at the Burgerville out back
(that typewriter actually struck an audience member in the face)
and piled them here – ten feet high
running half a city block

and as she passes, i ask this Lee what she wrote
she straightens, says the shift key is broken,
and turns the paper so i can read
i am a wampish mishap

what are you going to write?

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