This poem by Kelly Cherry from The Cortland Review somehow spoke to me today:

She Doesn’t Care What you Say About Her, Just so Long as you Spell Her Name Right

Would she have fame?
Would she take tea and have fame with her tea?
Or roll a joint, famously?

She imagined approval, applause
A man not bored by her voracity.

In the house to be
Furnished in the future,
There would be intricate, quiet rugs,
Acres of books,
Someone playing the cello.

A late supper after the concert or play…
Outside, the people were clamoring for autographs.

The Madonna Syndrome:

Later, they went home,
And the man who was not bored
By the fact that she loved him
Allowed her to write her name
On his balls with the tip
Of her tongue as many times
As it took to make sure
He got it right.

In other news, those whose interest was piqued by my review of The Case Against Happiness should check out this even better review at the poetry blog The Great American Pinup, and this interview with Pecqueur at the blog every other day.