An Encounter

Wrapped in a jacket of nostalgia
Like all my great loves,
Were a scribbled-upon library book and her corduroyed arm.

We kissed goodbye as strangers,
Southerners
Of antiquity!
Hear my tambourine?

The minute was the minute
But she was my canyon
And I was her stream.

What the bums said

It’s a plum cake.
That’s what the nuns said.
We bought it from them yesterday down the hill at their mission where they live.
We are giving it to you in thanks;
You let us stay a night in your flat.
You didn’t even know us.
That was a nice thing to do.
It’s a plum cake.
That’s what they said.