Constellation Consolation (Mr. D Talks to Mrs. D)

learn by example; I am

neither hot

nor cold; rather

I am Zevon, sitting

at a piano, singing

of parenthood

the way a blind man speaks

of the Sistine Chapel;

tenderness,

he assures, will be found

on a block that leads

to knowledge, gold star praise,

a young man clutching flowers

in his sweaty hands; they say

that the brain is at its softest

when the skin is, that

charity begins at home, that

Freudian graffiti is permanent, but

there’s always remedial reading

and daylight savings; besides,

anything you can hold is

just a rental

even the stars know

this, and do not feel

guilty; when Ursa Minor finally

walks alone, scattering its gifts

across infinity, the Major

will hold back tears,

but then

exhale.