To live is to love, a great book commands.
But such love is not enough!
The heart needs a little foolishness!
so I fold the newspaper, make a hat.
I pretend to Sonya that I am the greatest poet
and she pretends to believe it—
my Sonya, her stories and her beautiful legs,
her stories and legs that open other stories!
(stop talking while we are kissing)
I see my future: a yellow raincoat,
a sandwich, a piece of tomato between my teeth,
I raise my infant daughter to the sky—
I am singing as she pisses
(Old fool, my wife laughs)
on my forehead and my shoulders!