Oh, Rover, you are the one : skipping like a heartbeat
over glistening water, watching the filled boats come
in, seeing the people emptying out. Just an evening's
reverie, this time with you and me. A commuter's new
nightmare can be our own Heaven. We watch while
they wait in the hundred-degree heat. No milestone
like this, ever before.
So what do I care; Hall of Fame, with A-Rod's name.
All those now-debunked fortunate ones are leaning off
to the other side : watching things fade, talking politics
with someone else's boss, seeing the skirts go
strolling by. This stretches my own tendency to
blanch; like demanding filtered water
on a camping trip to Nome.
When I was 7, I said my prayers. At the very same
time, regardless of prayer, I was hit by a train and
'Dead!' they declared - but I came to life to welt
them a mutt like they'd never seen before. Before
them - like Edith Piaf - I will stand up and say:
'Je ne regrette rien.'