Today during lunch I busied myself
plucking red onions and the name
of a past love from my salad
I deliberated Saldutti
the one who transplanted me
in Chalfont tucked me naked
beneath summer sheets
fed me soup floating Italian spices
I slept through the first two days
of my new life in the east
He watched me fragile
like a blown egg Every meal
I took from the security
of his sheets staring for long periods
out the transom overlooking
miles of virgin timber hill
I came to the realization I favored
pasta not soul food rose from the pavement
like smoke from a spent cigar
gained momentum weight
began speaking rhythmically again
On the third day I rose from the dead
in accordance with the scripture
and was seated at the right hand
of Saldutti in his red pickup truck
Le Tour de Chalfont in a Chevy
On the fourth day following an afternoon
of wine tasting
communing in the vineyard
we ascended into Heaven
for a diminutive slice of it
Now a decade five soulmates later
he may deliberate me the poet
inebriated on too many heartaches
not noticing the cigarette burning
a hole in my stockings