Undertaken As a Means of Investigation

Why not consider China in Utah
On such a misty afternoon
The sheer pillars vanish
Into calligraphy? I am not

Native. Not here, not there,
Not anywhere, and least of all
Where I was born to two natives.
I am misbehaving. I am

A synecdoche for society
And a society of such synecdoches
As would make your hair stand
Up on the back of your alerted neck.

Sukha, queen of this little
Egg of a world in miniature
In a miniature galaxy (yes,
"Miniature" galaxy, as if you hadn't guessed)

Asks me, "What are those? No!
Those! What are those?" She points
Until finally I follow the point
Toward wisps of fallen cloud

Hanging artfully as debutante shawls
Around the shoulders of the cliffs.
"Those are fogs, sweetie.""Frogs?"
"No, 'fogs.' Clouds come down to say 'hello.'"

When I retell this conversation, I mix
Roles, and later excuse myself
In my mind by thinking the cuteness
Was cuter in her mind than mine.