for Phoebe
she bangs an upper-case "H"
on the ol’ purple typewriter
that she gave me for my birthday
she takes the paper out
and plays w/it
on the carpet
in front
of the t.v.
like
a cat
then she gets up
smiles at me
as Christmas lights shimmer
and takes my hand
to go outside and
get a Budweiser from the deli
she knows the little things to do
which stop the eroding of the soul
when the earth opens
and gravity laughs