A SURPRISE INVITATION FROM MY MOTHER ROSE
WHO KNEW ALL THE LYRICS IN THE LEGIT FAKE BOOK
Three bouquets of red roses land on my doorstep.
The middle one sings with fluttering leaves
and speaks with a Thatford avenue accent.
She invites me to put on my bicycle helmet
and slide down one of her big fallopian tubes
where her heavy milkweeds would envelop me
for old time’s sake—if I could wait for her to awaken,
she would take me to the Roxy for a musical show
after a lunch of baked beans at the Horn & Hardart.
My 2 brothers must have slept through the invitation.
I always knew I was her favorite.