The theory that we’re all just pretending
that we know anything
really and mean it. I was sure
as most nights tonight
the corseted fog above San Francisco
had something to do with burials
but it’s just me addressing how little I know
of weather systems. Certain facts remain
like parents
though we know less about them
as adults, the children they were. Diapers and toilet paper
and missiles are facts. Sweat and the universal
carnival of foreclosing. That theory that we’re all just faking
for immediate approval, agelessness, comfort,
to this day I know little locked fences   evacuation routes—
what I know about the theory of pleasure is
the illusionist I studied as a kid
made our house disappear   then all of us