Skin-Graft of a King
Hold fast your slippery bosom!
Ran into the middle of your name
rocking out on a Mac in the middle
of the ocean (as I recall, you served a
slice of water and a bug). Remind me
to tell you that when you moved to
Ashland was the beginning of time.
I cherish all previous moments, too,
but beyond that I can’t write. Runny
eggs are not my specialty. Complete
with a poetry reading in the middle of
nowhere. A spontaneous. Round the
room and over the couch. Parking in
the familiar and playing the (finger-
tips might remember the score
but wake up new each day) dream-
ing about pianos. I found a white one
for you. I wrapped it up to keep it
from the sunlight. It’s waiting up-
stairs with a big blue bow on it.
