for Arika Larson
I write. I have a muse who’s my work wife.
I’m either thinking “What if?” or “What gives?”
I only have one foot in quote, real life,
Unquote. I like to dream where Maybe lives.
The foot in the unreal takes all my weight.
It’s where I move from and I go to rest.
I feel inept unless I can create
And that real life is trivial at best.
I have one rule, unbroken since my youth:
If it happens to me, then it’s fair game.
I’ll bend the facts to aim straight for a truth.
You’ll know I love you if I change your name.
Real life’s the stove I use to bake the bread
Someone will chew on, long after I’m dead.