3-19-94
AFTER A COUPLE OF DRINKS
After a couple of drinks
I notice a couple whispering love things.
I dig into my paper bag of poems
open a folder
and uncover a dry purple primrose
pressed and proper between poetry
and a memory
of an older womanslurring, 'stay poetic (a martyr)
chronicle our lives, our loves, our sins
I love you,' giving me that flowerbut still alone introverted
condemned to be poor
admiringly sniffing this flower
of age.