The little boy upon leaving
the library said, “I only
said thank you because
my mom told me to.”
The little review said to me,
“We are surprised
that someone with your publishing
history would send
anything to us. Therefore
we are rejecting your work.”
The man with only one
half of a mustache
wanted the reverse recording
of the Bhagavad Gita
on onyx discs. The stars
were out like party goers
in the eastern quadrant
of the sky. It was time
to sit down, shut up,
and feel bad all over.
It was the night
you breathed by my side
as if my body
had turned to ashes
of bright turquoise,
orange, red, and silver.