A poem called "For a 13th Birthday,"
written for the occasion or on the occasion
of giving my daughter Dreiser's novel Sister Carrie.
But really, what I want it to do was contrast
to eras, his and ours.
"You have read War and Peace.
Now here's Sister Carrie, not up to Tolstoy.
Still, it will second the real world.
Predictable planes and levels.
Pavement that holds you.
Stairs that lift you.
Ice that trips you.
Nights that begin after sunset.
Four lunar phases.
A finite house.
I give you Dreiser, although (or because) I am no longer sure.
Lately, I have been walking into glass doors.
Through the car windows, curbs disappear.
On the highway, wrong turn offs become irresistible.
Someone else is controlling the wheel.
Sleepless nights pile up like a police record.
All my friends are getting divorced.
Language, my old comrade, deserts me.
Words are misused or forgotten.
Consonants fight each other between my upper and lower
teeth.
I write fiend for friend and word for world.
Remember comes out with an M missing.
I used to be able to find my way in the dark, sure
of the furniture.
But the town I lived in for years
has pulled up its streets in my absence, disguised
its buildings behind my back.
My neighbor, at dinner, glances at his cuffs, his palms.
He has memorized certain phrases but does not speak my language.
Suddenly, I'm aware, no one at the table does.
And so I give you Dreiser, his measure of certainty.
A table that's oak all the way through.
Real and fragrant flowers.
Skirts from sheet and silkworms.
No unknown fibers.
A language as plain as money.
A workable means of exchange.
A world whose very meanness is solid.
Mud into mortar.
And you are sure of what will injure you.
I give you names like nails, walls
that withstand your pounding, doors that are hard to open.
But once they're open, admit you into rooms
that breathe pure sun.
I give you trees that lose their leaves
as you knew they would, and then come green again.
I give you fruit preceded by flowers.
Venus, Supreme, and the sky, the miracle
of always landing on your feet even though the Earth rotates
on its axis.
Start out with that at least."