He is so enamored with a woman who can turn his faults into origami,
lend him a folding chair when at times the morale picnic has agreed to badminton birdies and all
to do is sit with his face in his hands, peaking through his shakes;
makes a church steeple with two index fingers
so she might
with cold water for his frogs.
Everything is croaking,
and he nods,
which bridges have been washed out by rising water,
which words to use,
urgently. . .
listens for mating songs;
she describes where the cremated remains will be scattered.
He insists there is a Hallmark Movie about Cleopatra,
the Roller Derby Queen,
and when she loses her glass slippers, she can’t help
head over heels
for all that glitters is gold.