February 1, 1986
floats through McDonald's like a
swan in a bathtub.
Going through my old journals, I'm reminded that I used to try to write at least one poem every day. They served the same function as an illustration — a sketch in the margin — nothing more, nothing less. I'd jot them down on my lunch break. On February 1, 1986 this haiku appeared. Not a bridal gown but she was wearing a white dress, white shoes with high heels. Untouchable poise…