This fits with what I'm writing now though I actually wrote it
when I was doing nothing but drinking apple juice
and eating brown rice for three days in 1968.
Not a bad idea.
Mozart is the title of it.
Mozart.
Can you hear him?
Of course he misses you.
Now that he's cake, we gave him a plaque set in dough,
not heavy enough.
He says, I'd like some gold please.
I feel like I'm flying.