Ode to Michael Heffernan's
I'm going to go into my bedroom and walk around a little,
because it's time to crawl into bed and read,
after a day where the sun dropped
behind the earth. There isn't much here
in the bedroom of mine, except bedclothes and photos and books,
so why should I go investigate the carpeted floor
for evidence of sweet snacks,
the feeder of the tummy? I'm in here,
and off on a little walk to my bed,
but first I'd like to tell you I found
your box of Entenmann's donuts on the floor.
Quite candidly, I'm not sure what to do with them.
It is a variety pack, with three different donuts left,
the sugar toppings all sitting together
on top of yellow cakey sweetness in the box.
I am not so good when it comes to eating sweets
as others, like you, but I could reach in the box and pull out
a donut from those you left.
They came from Albertson's on October 18. I'd say,
except no one else is around and stuffed animals don't eat donuts,
Here are a couple donuts.
I know you will like them better than I would,
especially the one covered with chocolate wax,
since I can't fathom why anyone would eat that crap.
Or you can keep them
and give them to another good donut lover some day.
I'm sure the preservatives will keep them for a while.
When I e-mailed Mr. Heffernan at University of Arkansas, to ask him if he would mind my putting a blatant semi-rip-off of his own poem on my blog, he said I honor him with this poem. But, more important, he said, "What matters is the way these words of ours can be gifts across many miles and years, as we poems come to people we do not know." Whether spoken or written, poem or ugly epithet, words carry power to make people feel, even if we don't know our audience personally. Once we've spoken, there is a personal connection.