the storm has broke and trees are flail
and crack of light.
—Larry Kearney
At least don’t be so graphic. It isn’t how
to keep youth. And don’t roll over
and play dead.
New pillows, a potato peeler, measuring
spoons. Lying in bed on 860 Bush St.
after packing some & watching
The Station Agent. I still make good time.
And “love like love” – with fried rice made
with Vienna sausages (which show up
often!). Red notebook with dangling
dangle, it’s exactly three months
to the day. What to do about
5 years? About writing machine? A
wilted face over a bow-tie? It’s almost
as if I can hear the locusts buzzing outside.
Sorry for going off the radar. I’m
enjoying the company of the hottest love-
making ever. Have I moved at all
since we last poked?
