To live

To live, as the great book commands,

is to love. Such love is not enough!

the heart needs a little foolishness!
So I fold the newspaper, make a hat.[hidepost]

I pretend to Sonya that I am the greatest poet
and she pretends to believe it—

my Sonya, her stories and her beautiful legs
her stories and legs that open other stories!

And I say: a human being
understands the universe: its music

makes us foolish. I see myself: a yellow raincoat,
a sandwich, a piece of tomato between my teeth.

I raise my infant daughter to the sky—
I am singing as she pisses

(Old fool, my wife laughs)
on my forehead and my shoulders!

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