Ode to Jimmy

Hey now here’s Jimmy,

the fellow who says
he’d live in the
last line
of a Dickinson poem
if the publisher
had some extra space.

Jimmy’s blank as book paper.

You see now Jimmy here’s
a mirror for the world,
so when you look at him
good in the morning,
and he points out
that fog in the drive,
and he points out
that it’s more common
in cul-de-sacs
(and other circular spaces),
and he points out
that this is especially true
in the morning,
you don’t have to look
anywhere else.

THAT’S WHY:

Jimmy’s the sort of tall glass of orange juice you could really go for,
the sort of thing you’d leave at a coffee table next to the newspaper,
which he’ll read by the time I’m back,
pull me aside and say:

“Angular rain yesterday afternoon.”

and:

I haven’t heard the rain make such sounds.”

and:

“Rainwater tastes differently on your skin.”

over two cups of cold coffee.

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