I keep imagining
this amazing dinner party
where everything I have written
is served on fine china
- yes, even the brussels sprouts are there,
sitting in a little metal dish behind the potatoes.
My fire burns in candles
among waxed fruit
My blood is in the wine (sorry Jesus -
I took your line)
I think it's a Chinese meal,
whose appetizers greatly outnumber the
main courses
But oh! if you can handle the chopsticks,
you're in for a real nice surprise.
One note, however:
When the fortune cookies come, don't look!
Just close your eyes and swallow the paper whole
That way, it will always come true.
- Oct. 16, 1985, A.D.
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