This poem, for some reason, I think always
goes with that one, but I don't know why.
It's called "Star 69," about that fabulous new phone
invention, star 69.
I think together these two poems make a dyad of jealousy,
I think, is what's maybe going on so "Star 69."
"Jealous cherry is in the white, white kitchen.
A seamy breeze in from the west, I know where it's been.
It finds me here along with the murdered fish,
a rude swelling on my neck.
Exactly what did you mean, 'you meant to do this to me'?
Scuba blue presses in on my brow.
Night's coming on as a demure elixir.
The effect you've had is terrifyingly broad.
You held out your hand.
It was full of sugar.
The bed became sunshine, then thunder.
Everything happened.
Everything changed.
And then it all slid back, and it stayed the same.
Still, anything gets in my heart.
These, as your bricks, the wind that
rotates the pollen, the origami swan that
is swimming by in the gutter.
When I am not haunted by you, is never."