I tire of people who leave

 
crosswords half-whole, stuck
on some word they never entered the right room
in the right lighting to learn
 
the meaning of. Is there a prize
for basic diligence? Will I find it
in a supercenter before
 
the sun wanders the horizon?
I only came here to replace a blow dryer
that howled so loud it blew out.
 
We want the world to reveal
its magic more often than not: the crowd bursts
into song—you don’t know
 
if it’s pen ink or blueberry juice
on your hands. The moon dips into the river
as if to cleanse its plump body,
 
glistering the water yellow.
I imagine myself a lesser messenger
assigned to data retrieval,
 
some cog in the larger structure.
The curator of menial tasks who watches
lovers, keeps tally of whose eyes
 
close first when they kiss.