You sit across the page, spelling
Your name like mine
Except it rhymes
And no one suspects you are lonely
Or looney or so hungry
you could eat this paper,
folding it into a star
popping it in the microwave
where you and I and the universe
will be one and done.
(Actually, today, March 12, 2024 is my birthday. I am 78. Happy and still hooting and yapping,)