From my kingdom I have a perfect view of Emily Dickinson’s house.
My kingdom is five feet long and chained to a mysteriously green pipe with brass fittings. On one end is “The Lone Wolf Cafe.” Five feet away at the other end is “The Black Sheep Bakery.” Either end smells delicious, mid-bench the irony is tasty. Local Universities has recessed till fall, the streets are student free and quiet.
Until my bus arrives the royal agenda is to drink ginger tea and read poetry. The dollar anthology I bought with no cover includes playful poem of love by Matthew Dickman who has written the line;
“Your ass is like the shopping mall at Christmas.”
I spill my tea!
I laugh aloud (recalling a memory so sweet).
Oh Emily, oh Emily, how can I explain.