Mr. Fun put the pieces of folded newspaper away

in a drawer that wouldn’t close because of New Year’s cards,

coins, a set of teeth, old keys, plastic toys, souvenirs,

and a whistle;

Mr. Fun’s life in small pieces.

Most of his inventions never became anything

more than a folded newspaper,

but Golden Helper II was special,

and Mr. Fun knew exactly where this bundle

of copper, steel, and rippling chains could be welded

onto the frame of the Fun family tricycle.

Mr. Fun’s ideas often came in the evening

when Mrs. Fun and Little Weng were at home

watching television, bellies full, eyes closing.

At night he sometimes stood over their beds,

sometimes stood there in the darkness,

his heart like a kite on currents of breath.

It would be like when they were dead, he thought,

except he would be dead too.

No more Fun.