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But more akin to bioluminescenceAs performed by fireflies, late on summer nightsAfter everyone has fallen asleep.If you please, though, not those horrible creaturesOf the deep, dark ocean, who use their eerie lightsTo attract hapless prey, whom they capture and gnashWith sharp teeth. No offense, guys, but that’s aPathetic way to go about your life. It’s not so much an old flameBut more akin to an old spice—Not the to

IV. My lover once confessed to me, “I am a terrible man.” I asked him why he thought so. “I have all these faults and weaknesses, That I am forced to face too often. I make my excuses, And then feel miserable For the rest of the day.” That was half a lifetime ago. Now, I wonder if I had misheard a homonym. Maybe he was, or should have been, Comparing himself to Tissue paper. V. For Halloween,

I. I felt guilty, so I pulled Into the Redemption Center. But all they wanted were My bottles and cans. II. Now that fall has arrived in New England, My husband is wearing his black leather jacket With the matching cowboy hat That he picked up at a flea market On our vacation to Florida. He says that he looks a little like Burt Reynolds in Smokey and the Bandit. I tell him, just once, “No. You don’t.̶

I loved you before I was born And I will love you after I am gone. In between, we have our duties and responsibilities And joys and sorrows, and all the triumphs and trophies To celebrate for ourselves, and kith and kin. I gaze at the stars. They are very beautiful. So I think of you. The truth is that the memories Are like old handbills and popcorn sleeves Pressed in the clown’s scrapbook, Waiting for nothing

The only thing that appeals to me about prison life is the last meal before the execution. The guards, pleased with the ritual, tell the condemned man to order any meal he wants, they will have it delivered. Liquor too? Maybe not, but I do not really know. I bet sometimes they smuggle in a cold beer. I suspect that most prisoners do not choose haute cuisine, which would lose its luster on death row. Instead I imagine

See that boat, the nice blue one? Let’s steal it. When the sun sets, we will swim across the harbor, scramble aboard, hoist the sails, and wave good-bye to our foolish ideas about achievement and responsibility. We will set course for Vancouver Island, or St. Barts in the Caribbean, or Fiji. How far can Fiji be? You can catch fish and squid. Do you like sushi? No? Then we will flag down passing cruise ships and invit