Louis Gallo

My two little girls and I
Lie on the Sarouk looking at catalogs,
Something we do.
We’re flat on our stomachs,
Propped up by elbows,
Perceive with retinas,
Grasp with neo-cortical
Circuits in slabs of meat.
Who can find the lemon?
I ask, and they search
Until the little one slides
Her sprig of a finger
Deftly onto the only lemon
On the page?
Niblet won! I cry
As Puddy, all of five, sulks.
I saw it first, Daddy, she whines,
And I think of the intricate
Machinery that has inserted
A lemon that does not exist
Into our three discrete minds
At the same time, in the same room,
With the same exactitude.
Some lemon!
Some magic in the head! Puddy and Niblet
Leap up to embrace
In a squealing bear hug
This night, July 4, 1999,
Then pounce upon me,
Mess up my hair,
Bestow dozens of kisses
As all the while
Some now deliquescent lemon
Tumbles over the flat edge
Of the world.