The Kiss for Rocinante

 

30 DECEMBER 2020

 

With the word of the year

Already picked

And 30 days to go,

 

We can

Kind of move

On, coffee dripping

 

Into a glass jar,

Don Quixote hanging

From a hay loft

 

Standing on Rocinante

Don’t kiss me on the mouth

I’m taken,

 

Rocinante doesn’t move

For hours until a filly

Arrives, and the smell

 

Even better than coffee

When she kisses him

He moves—El Caballero Andante—

 

His feet can’t quite

Touch the ground

Everything coming

 

Together, the enchanted inn,

I tell Karen, this is happening

While I pour her coffee

 

Jim Bodeen

1 December 2020