I don’t know what I was thinking
taking us to the Museum of Surgery
but we left very glad of anesthetic
and the sky entirely not cut open.
Later, it was nearly impossible to see
the haystacks because it turned out
we were in the Museum of Museum Guards.
One woman was eight feet tall, her head
a spectacular aluminum oval that floated
around the gallery. But the exhibit
of Incan placemats turned out to be
an exhibit of descriptions of Incan
placemats because the mats themselves
were too delicate to be looked at.
Certainly the Museum of Shadows
was full of shadows but I got the feeling
people were seeing things I wasn’t.
A window made you cry in a good way.
I wanted to go to the Museum of Staircases
because of what happened once in Rome
but by the time we found the escalator
to catch the elevator, we realized
the Retrospect of the Future
would soon be closed so we rushed away.
The Museum of Weather was between shows
(again) and you felt tetchy and volumetric
so we went to the Café of One Thousand
Adjectives where they searched for a sandwich.
Afterward, the driver of our museum-quality
cab was from the Ivory Coast and seemed
to want to take us there. I loved what
was happening to your hair in the Museum
of This Moment we did share. A man ran
between the blocked cars trying to sell
a rose, chunks of ice bobbing in the lake.