It was great to see you the other day

at the carnival. My enchiladas were delicious,

and I hope that yours were too.

I wanted to fulfill your dream of me

in some suitable way. Giving away my new gloves,

for instance, or putting a box around all that’s wrong with us.

But these gutta percha lamps do not whisper on our behalf.

Now sometimes in the evenings, I am lonely

with dread. A rambunctious wind fills the pine

at my doorstep, the woodbine is enchanted,

and I must be off before the clock strikes

whatever hour it is intent on.

Do not leave me in this wilderness!

Or, if you do, pay me to stay behind.