I'm going to end with a love poem.
It's new-- called "Bodega."
"Tulip, two bunch, 12 at the bodega, corner of 19th Street.
January just begun.
Handing sign above metal tubs, sporting this panoply
of shades whose curve and surface
rhyme with the skin on my lover's shoulders.
Two of the uncounted places on--
oh, let's call him you--
where my hands like to rest.
I've studied the spectrum of possibility
displayed beneath a striped, rain glazed awning
and made my choice.
Three branches of plum decked at their tips
with spherical green ideas of bloom.
To purchase a bud is to buy a prospect, to entertain beliefs.
He'll be at my place in an hour, just off work.
The bit of future I'm carrying home
is bundled in clear wrapping and jeweled
with a little rain, a gift given as much to myself as to-- oh,
let's say you.
Unwrap these and open.
Unexpected, early in the year, later in my life, long
in coming, though sudden still and splendid: spring."
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]
Thank you.