Here, and makeup
The sun comes up, hotel staff bubbling
like hot butter
(about how bad she said their service was)
in the lobby downstairs.
I sneak out through the backdrop
while she goes to Saks shopping for “foundation.”
I’m trying to hold onto mine.
Exit, stage left, get the staff out,
we burn down the stage.
The moon comes up; now, here
we're all fine. Coffee and chicory
on the moonlit flames, in the open air.
BEEN OUT OF SCHOOL WAY TOO LONG
Come and get my poems, enroll in my school of poetry, make yourself at home and don't worry,
it's not that kind of poetry school; the cafeteria is much more Pumpkin Pie and Hush Puppies
than Cassoulet and Coq au Vin, though those last two are marvelous, blackened, with a side saucer of Twinkie cream.