sometimes I feel like the glorious history of civilization
could just evaporate
like a puddle on a hot summer day

feel like
it’s my immediate sweating action
that’s eternal

feel like
the historians and scholars
are spinning their worn wheels

and that my struggle
to heave a box
onto a high shelf

matters more
and I sleep easy
on a pad of physical exhaustion

next to the woman
my arm snakes around
through all the seasons


Bob Hudson is a made guy.