WHY I AM NOT AN ACCOUNTANT

I closed the book after a short time and caught myself thinking:
He’s an important poet.

Which seems akin to saying: He’s an important forklift driver.

Unless, of course, the rolling ladder has slipped from under you
and you’re stuck on the top shelf of an Ikea in Paramus, New Jersey,

hanging on by your fingernails and the only words of comfort are
those right in front of your face:

BENNO TV Unit with Casters

In such an instance I should think there would be significant importance
to the driving of a forklift.

*   *   *

I keep trying to imagine the bug you squashed last night. I think:
silverfish, fire ant?

You stare at the wainscoting, concentrating carefully and say:
“No, no.”