Longing to hug them,
I wait ’til they flutter near
like moths to my flame.
Mom’s casual embrace
1
Longing to hug them,
I wait ’til they flutter near
like moths to my flame.
Her face fronted a
movement, a magazine. My
mind’s jaw drops in awe.
Going to New York
City. I’ve bought black clothing,
black low-heeled shoes.
I’ll Dramamine my
self into torpidity,
sleep through drink service.
Like trying to use
your tongue as a lint brush, you
wake up fuzzy-mouthed.
Making travel plans,
like getting dressed for a date,
is a leap of faith.
TV’s “Fisherman
and His Wife” story for our
times. Unalloyed greed.
On weigh-in day I’d
inhale helium if it
would make me lighter.
Going to New York
to be on TV. Need new
clothes. A tent would work.
I keep coming to
post like a lover checking
for text messages.