Once upon a time
in the Great Hall
of the Metropolitan Museum,
my woman wan~pale,
doozy, woozy, about to grace
the floor marble, with an
undesirably inelegant fall.

Steadied her, a quick diagnose,
Low Blood Sugar + Dehydration,
her condition I pronounced.
The antidote in my possession!

From my pocket left,
withdrew my emergency tangerine.

She looked, quizzically, upon me,
even a bit weirdly,
marveling and marvelous,
as I fed her bite-sized orange curvatures.

Who walks around with a
tangerine in their coat pocket?

I replied, doesn't everyone?

besides, that juicy tangerine looked
mighty good, so I took from
pocket right, another one,
laughingly, which we shared.

Henceforth she has called me,
a partial mocking homage to a former actor,
who should have stayed that way,
the one who was thinking you can always start over,
The Anticipator.

If you ask me what is the secret
to keeping love alive, my answer permanent.

Get thee a coat of many pockets,
like the one Joseph had,
fill them up with with the things
that will shelter her from the storm...^

No longer the season of the tangerine,
In my pocket in the fall,
a Fuji apple and a box of
raisin~poems