WHAT THE


A definite article rolled into town
and came to rest at my feet.
It was useless to continue
with what I was doing (gluing
sequins onto a bridle),
so I stopped and considered the
word on the ground,
tried to guess what it was up to.
Jerry came by (old friend of mine)
and asked why I'd ceased my activity.
I looked into Jerry's eyes. It was clear
he hadn't slept in days.
"Don't you worry 'bout me,"
I said. "You just go on home and
get some shuteye. Kiss Nancy
when she greets you, and hug little Ulla
when she gets home from school."
Jerry wavered, but I was firm:
"Go on now, I'll take care of this."
And as the dust kicked up by Jerry's tires
settled back down to its previous
calm, I turned the article over
and over in my hand. It felt smaller
than it looked—too small,
I thought, for the noun I had in mind.