My hometown is the center for the Rosicrucians.
And I grew up visiting the Rosicrucians Museum
and looking at the mummies and the shrunken heads.
Finally, wrote a little poem called "Wanting a Mummy."
I've always wanted one, a connection leaning
against the bureau, an in to atrocious kingships,
to stone passages.
Those nights carrying the planets of the dead.
I like being able to ask it, how do you like the rain?
Are you 3,000 years old or still 25?
And to hear it replying, voluble with symbols and medallions.
There, we would debate faced off across the room, my room
temperature friend and I, with my hands like peaches,
and my friend, all shortbread and roots."