Tuesday, September 25, 2007

dxlvi

Today’s flower is the iris.   Its
purple-striped tongue sticking out
at me.   My back won’t work now that
I’m up to de Tocqueville.   Jack Lemmon
on Channel 5 has Christmas with his
eggnog.   Every day but this day
we sit outside.   The occasion –
a twinge of pain back left quadrant
of my neck.   I’m due for something
horrific.   The click of the throat
as the water is drunk.   “Goodbye,
Don.”   “Goodbye, Kurt.”