Inscriptions

I

Daddy, 

You could drink us all

under the table. Drink up

some Fitzgerald. We love you,

your K & S. 

II

Dearest Millie, 

I found the pre-Kubrick dust jacket. 

even though I hate this book. But you 

seem to love everything I hate. I love you,

The almost-namesake

Lalita.

III

For you, 

Here is another misunderstood woman. I hope you 

understand her & she you, but please don’t jump 

under a train in the end. 

Mum. 

IV

Mousebear! 

Happy Birthday from Big Brother’s neon eye!

Michael Jackson’s afro on fire at a Pepsi Commercial 

  shoot and crack cocaine slinking its way to Hollywood 

and untethered astronauts air-walking in black space 

is as close as we got to a dystopian dictatorship. Others 

can say whatever they want but I firmly believe it’s 

because you popped outta your mom on Jan 1, 1984. 

Love, your girlfriend-cum-wife

(I know you’re chuckling)

V

Alia my poetess,

these are stars of bones 

these poems about stars

the stars of a poem with bones

the bones of the stars delicate as poems

the bones of this poem in which we star

anyway I tried scrawling a Dream Song

of my own, but I should probably leave

the rest up to Mr. Berryman. 

your baby Daddy!