SOME SENTENCES

A poet I loved and was betrayed by
loved me again and my ex-wife
took me to a hotel to fuck my brains out,
something we never did, but just as her body
touched mine a crowd of people appeared,
an acquaintance, a colleague,
my current wife, one by one defiling
the moment and the room and then,
because they do not give a rat’s ass
about daylight savings, my kids
woke me at 6 a.m., which was 5 a.m.,
the lawn needed mowing, the mower
needed gas, and halfway through I ran out
of leaf bags so I made a pile,
called the kids, they had at it, the air
smelled like a past I never had yet always
imagined as my own, and I knew,
in life, some sentences never get said,
but some do—go, listen for them.