Post injections, post poetry readings, post wife’s tree doctor exam part one of three, post jazz singing (her not me), pre-Santa Claus gigs and before and after everything is postcards
Sleep and poetry, poetry and sleep is my wish
also campstove mokapot kohi (add a payphone wrapped in plastic wrap at the edge of the world, not pictured)
at a secret Café that’s not secret between 12 and 1
addressed, stamped, sealed but not written
back on the bus
k, bye, k
