DISTINCTIONS

I don’t know which paintings hanging in the halls
Of the museum in the park are priceless and which are
Worthless copies.
Oil on canvas, acrylic on wood.
I don’t know what keeps the driving rain from christening the
Valleys
Of a thirsty San Diego fall.
The dry land cracks beneath the flawless azure sky.
I don’t know the difference between the clock counting the
Seconds
In the armoire of your heart and the timer that ticks at the end of
The fuse.
Gunpowder on the secondhand.
Blood on the rope.