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Marionberry:  jams of Washington                         

state. I thought they were mocking this city.

Take a mayor and boil his sugar down—                      

spoon-spreadable, sweet. We take presidents

and run them in a game’s fourth-inning stretch.

We take Bullets and turn them to Sea Dogs.                  

Do you remember that ballot? Sea Dogs

Dragons  Stallions  Express. The Washington

Wizards was no more or less of a stretch.

We wave gavels like wands in this city.

We’re the small town in which a president

can plant some roses. Each time I sit down                   

to try and say goodbye, all I write down

is Dear City. My neighbor walks his dogs

past a monument to a president’s

terrier, forever bronzed. Washington

has no J Street, no Z, yet the city

maps attend to fifty states and a stretch                      

of five blocks NE Metro track—a stretch


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