Poem in the Manner of Self-Help with a Moral

  When encountering an emotion



they say you should visualize



it somewhere in your body



I feel this spray of wild dill



barely hanging on in a light breeze



but it clanks too   like a tool chest



I like listening to the geezers



play chess and discuss



Normal Mailer novels



at the tiled table with folded up



paper under one of its legs



The man behind the counter



toting skullcap and attitude



I don’t know   he’s interesting



I imagine myself so



inexact by comparison



I like the idea that I’m progressing



spiritually   that I can maybe



sit longer inside the uncertainties



surrounding meaning



I sit here because it feels



like I’m not in the city



like I could leave life early



The loud types at the table



in the back make it clear



the world has nothing to teach them



I could learn something



from them too if I paid attention



long enough   not that I will