for everything which is yes

Soft as the vinyl’s
crackle they kissed, a lazy
old tomcat crooning.

Every wrinkle
layers of lightly-sketched lines
drawn by artist Time.

Even they stand at
attention–uniform–to
salute a sacrifice.

The winter clouds are
back. They unloaded the car
and brought in their bags.

For the mirror has
shown me–fairy tale or not–
half-dead, beastly tears.

In my dreams, I see
a prince. And so my eyes are
shut. Love, wake me up.

Forced to, he backs down.
Not quite six feet tall, he goes.
Smokin’ Joe Frazier.