The Idiad by Rachel Loden
Shall I write a poem about you
and your epic struggle against stupidity?
Feh. But if the brain is a city
I too have rooms in the swampy part, surrounded by crocodiles.
The monarch butterflies sail down from the Canadian Rockies
to overwinter in Pacific Grove, pair off and fly away;
They bruise me. I get crankier.
If you are coming down through the narrows of the Saugatuck
please text me beforehand,
and I will come out to meet you
as far as Palookaville.
