Right away, I figured this was going to be a serious poem, because I had to come to the coffee shop so I could stay awake to write it, but the woman next to me is reading Franny and Zooey, and she’s got fair skin, and she’s young. I wish I could see the blue moon: that’s what I write on the check. $1.17 for coffee and apple pie ala mode.
12 June 1975