Dear Seth
Last night we tried to go see Her
but after dinner the snow sent us home
and here
before dawn I am up thinking of how much
you love the Celtics and Moby Dick
One August we ate
birthday cake in Herman Melville’s barn
Your stomach
is as weak as your heart is steadfast
Henri Bergson says the comic stems
from a certain absent-mindedness
At your house
when we would watch a game
I’d amuse myself pretending to forget
there was a ball
but your understanding
travels broader
and more deeply
You read the bright screen
as a whale would read the swells
Where I see a general blur you see particular shapes
and this is why the game to you must be called tragic
It is too early to go find regular paper
so I am writing this
on the back of a letter
from BlueCross BlueShield
No action is required on your part