He laughed his arf off
with such beautiful hands.
Miso Sacramento
and bracelets of soot.
Bowzer and the Orange Kilt
of objects.
I’d love to live in Architectural Digest
like a racehorse surrounded by flowers.
Broke as doke
that I am forever doing nothing but thinking.
The storm that wiped the pages free.
And there is my muse.
(2nd lines by Elaine Equi)
