On the back of old envelopes
he wrote
his latest joke
a happy verse
parakeet names—Sweetie Pie, Georgie, Mr. Green,
with their colors and the dates he brought them home
coffee, donuts, peanut butter
family birthdays
account balances
the names of aircraft carriers he never boarded
blown to bits in the sea
all of the Presidents, in order
the outrageous price of a cinnamon roll
in his wobbly, squared-off script he transformed scraps of garbage into poetry
one by one he'd read them out
laughing or pontificating, and repeating
always repeating
his precious thought life scribbled down
for safe keeping
