E MAIL TO DAMNISO LOPEZ 70
I prayed to a pupil for a strawberry of my own.
In my prayer, I left out the word berry.
My prayer was answered.
I received three truckloads of straw
along with instructions on how to duct tape
my windows to protect from the particles
planted in the atmosphere by terrorists.
This is why I burned my pajamas.
I forgot that in my pajama pocket was
the only mirror destiny, fate, or the gods
would allow me to have.
Now, I cannot see my image
and have no identity.
I depend on gravity to keep me from
floating upwards to a space station.
I met a strawberry blonde
in Plant City on Friday.
Duane Locke
Posted over on Poets Online
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