Here I am again,
Shakespeare Garden. The
birds listening to Ani DiFranco
on such a pleasant day. Chirp
being the inappropriate word;
it doesn’t sound right. Then
there was the poem I wrote.
It was a nice poem in three parts.
Dusk approaches. The elevator
kicks in. The concept of bi-
location. I am there and I am also
here next to this green bag from
Tiffany. In it, a bottle of
champagne and a small treasure.
Fred Asparagus dips Ginger
into the Sea of Mustard.
