Cookies And High Heels In A Clean Kitchen

French Open tennis starts at four a.m.
and Jupiter rises at two-thirty.

I might stay up all night. Write a little.
Draw a little. Make a little music.
Set up my telescope for Jupiter.
Then check out the tennis on the red clay.

If seeing is good, my highest power
should let me see Jupiter’s missing clouds.
Well, I’ll be able to see where they’re not.

And if it isn’t raining in Paris,
Maria will take on Justin Henin.

Now that Jupiter is missing some clouds
I hope looking at Jupiter doesn’t
change me and take away something from me.

Some people used to believe just looking
at something created contact with it.

This is Maria pretending to cook.



Cookies and high heels in a clean kitchen.

Ancient lore advises if you’re ever
kidnapped and taken to the fairy realms
it’s best not to eat food they offer you.
Legend has it fairy food will change you.

I am hoping Jupiter won’t change me.

And I am hoping that I have the strength
to politely refrain from pretending
to sample Maria’s pretend cookies.

The high heels. The yellow bowl behind her.
I already have looked at the picture.

Before sunrise I’ll look at Jupiter.

The morning Sun will shine on a new me.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .



Return To The Kitchen



New Light For My Nefarious Doings?


No Time, No Distance


Planetary Colors And The Grail Quest




All The Sunlight Is For Laughing