I have an old friend

who tells old tales

with an illustrious tongue.

Xe needle silken webs

from salivan poison

and enmesh me

in xer magnetic rouse.

Liquid imagination films my eyes

until my world is no longer blue,

but enthralling silver,

a looking glass through which I travel

to xer patchwork dimension.

I have an old friend

who tells old tales

from the flaky ink

on the yellow

pages of a

classical

book.