I have my hands out in front of me.
I’m lightly patting down everything
I come across. I somehow know the
banana shake when I touch it.
I can see myself from above.
As if on a video monitor.
I travel slowly down every alley,
across every rice paddy,
into and through every bedroom,
into and through every closet.
I am asleep and yet I am polite.
It is always like this.
I wear a light brown suit.
When I come upon you I grope you
for what seems like ten minutes.
As you have noticed.
But I am excused because I am asleep.
It is understood I am harmless.
I am like a blind reverend.
I am like a politician.
A ten-year-old girl detains me
in the park. She carefully clips
each of my fingernails.
When I yawn the earth rumbles.
I pat cans in your pantry.
It is said sparks can be seen
coming from my briefcase.
But I do not carry a briefcase.
I am not like that.