SUMMUM BONUM

At night, in a remote corner of the universe,

drunk adolescents reduce a reconstruction

of a prehistoric village to ash.

Soaring temperatures. The furniture emporiums,

deserted. Those who have not fled, neither

to the coast nor a theme park, lay aside

their weapons in the daytime in their backyards

and lie down, prone yet fearless. The cold

domestic tyrant thaws in his swimming trunks,

observes the twins—no longer annoyed,

astonished by their similarity, sighing, letting

his dream muscle relax, absent-mindedly

closing his eyes. The left twin, the right twin,

naked, hunting insects in the shrubs, suppressing

cries of astonishment, all concentration.

Other gardens bring roars of sovereign laughter,

preschool pop, dogs barking, a radio voice that says,

“The suspect has admitted

shooting a ballpoint pen into his father’s eye

with a crossbow.” With a smile at the ready,

Mom emerges in a bikini, her nerves under control

today unaided, a motionless tray with two glasses of iced tea

and two of green squash on one flat hand. Already looking

forward to the memories, she startles her hubby

awake with the lightest kiss on his lips—and this time

Dad doesn’t swear but rises beaming from his deck chair,

whispers “you’ve got to hear this” in Mom’s ear,

disappears into the wide-open fortress.

Let fate yo-yo, adversities come and go,

today they’re not afraid of anything, the stay-at-homes,

the peacemakers, the cheerful caricatures—listen,

from the domestic tyrant’s hobby room comes

the sound of a babbling brook.