For Maryanne

Poetry from an old notebook.

Writing after a while
This isn't the smarmy yellow-brick road to some
do whatcha like
emerald city
It's not a long depressing road
do whoyalike
to some rat-infested hole
in the middle of nothing and nowhere
Just the flatlined bottom of a
do whoyalike
fishtank
Smothering liberating
in a breath
do whatchalike
If I only knew
Love me, that's all I ask of you

Like standing
Like standing like coming home like eating braised red cabbage
It's easy when you're old to remember
'member?
to sit back and rock the chair
Back off ease up
every day is like that
between rock and rocking chair

Pumpkin pie
Pumpkin pie on a shelf
nasty pie attracting flies
I hate myself for eating you
pumkin pie