DEAR BLANK PAGE:
Now what? I look down,
you look up,
can’t we have a position
other than missionary?
How about a poetic twist,
we’ll Chubby-Checker
a couple of lines…
“C’mon baby,
let’s do some images,”
or as Maurice Ravel
used to call them,
“images.”
OK, Blankie,
repeat after me,
“I will not remain
a three-hole, college-ruled,
pale faced, blank son of a tree…
I will surrender my virginity
to any author worthy of being called
an aspiring poet, willing to explore
life’s dark places.”