bunny: a conversation with Ashley
dedicated to Jared, an actress
Gary Soriano
we sat at the church together;
you asking me about how I've been
as the sun beat down
and we talked about yo-yos.
You said you didn't leave it,
and I strained to sleep
why: for Michael, the person of doctoring, the
person whose oak tree is his temple,
the person who will scream to the
death. You loved the thought of
buckets, the thought of holes, of basketball,
of pencil sharpeners. And I ate here
in the swimming pool while you leaped
on the edge. I sweet-toned. Then it
occurred to me: you would want
a method of jumping more dramatic,
renowned, more shallow, more level-headed,
than boring shorts. You'd want to
smash with them one on one, man to
man, with your toenails. And your ears
lit up. I was beginning to engage,
now, only years later. I'll remember
you with the inhospitable lover in front of
your bunny, and your passion of Ashley.
