Jan and I went to a masque as each other.
We swapped interiorities, bandied psyches
about. Hell has indeed frozen over: I’m nice
for once, said Jan-as-me. I grinned, Janly.

Huck—Huck Elvis, I’s reck’n you jis tip the raf o’ve wit dat shak’n.
Hang it all, Jim.

I would never compare
you to a cookie
falling from the sky
a pure Oreo
or a virgin Lorna Doone,
unbitten, only flaky at the edges,
me, running to catch you
before you crumble.

Sharp As A Tack

Self help insult books are on the rise
Since researchers discovered
the severely critical remain
sharp as a tack into old age;
alzheimers thwarted
with withering stares.

I hear these pop stars
are falling in love,
stumbling blind for
chic gowns
and ballroom brides,