i was pondering russia that day-- 

when grammy told me about 

kukla fran and ollie

a dragon and a little russian boy, 

with funny eyebrows, and a dear friend

charlie called me that very day in a rolling daze

a puppet show, of creatures atop 

rafts rolling through a sky, 

with map equipment, pencils, golden brooches

my puppet would be a duck who 

wears embroidered hats and flies ahead 

in replacement of museum trips and libraries

charlie and i are sitting on the steps laughing 

at cases from 19 fifty, 

cockroaches in harry s. truman´s onion soup, or borscht

harry truman twiddled his thumbs 

and i was promptly gobbled 

up by the ambergris lips of the last whale 

i kept thinking about notes

on improvisation, maybe taking

steps that break the ground into little bits

i think i´ll go on another walk 

because it’s such a good feeling to

come home from a walk and just sit just so