Sir Thomas, stark green until he crept acurl
into the bed of marriage, put ripeness on
in the soft white embraces of a girl,

I

He said goodbye for the last time in a cafe in
Saint-Paul-de-Vence, over a glass of Chablis.
She lingered over cheese and fruit before requesting

                        O tree my mother
Your trunk is old.    Green and deep lives your leafy branch
          And each green leaf winks its eye

Relax,
            stand at attention, and.
         Purple snake stands out on

One final fall of sun slips past the ridge
behind my shoulder, coats the upper limbs 

I put the bacon into the pan.
It lies there, lank and perfectly relaxed.
After a few minutes, though, a marvelous transformation

Ten years on the road: I move into the fast lane 
at the approach of a long rise 
to swing by a Ford tractor-trailer

Rapunzel had her hair. All she had
was a phone she couldn't dial out on
and a second set of sheets—twin-sized

Each has a foot-square paper napkin stuck
to the headrest: a bow to budget travelers' sensibilities.
Too bad each square evokes a paper toilet seat:

He could be on acid, the way he holds them
to the light and stares. “Wow,
man. Heavy. Oh wow ...”