to my fellow fridge-poets

Someone once gave me the San Francisco version of a magnetic poetry set. The rest is history. Now it is my hot-water heater poetry set, since my fridge is hidden behind a cupboard door (in good French style). So--here's what's going on on my water heater (that's an awful sentence!)

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if music

be the food of Spring

rock on*

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the

city

on

a

chill

-------

for Jen:

write him

I think

you need souvenirs

of love.

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Beautiful

our two red cups fog

we watch rain drive

north caught by land

bridging the sky line.

---------

drink Italy-ian**

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*for those not steeped in Shakespearimania: "if music be the food of love, play on" is the first line of Twelfth Night.

**in good magnetic poetry fashion, not all suffixes can be added neatly.