Lucky Me! Nov. 28, ’88
Several weeks ago
While I sat quaffing cheap white wine
With worries about my heart and kidneys,
A child in Bangladesh with lack of food and necessities
Sat down and wrote his name
And drew a waxy sketch of a flower
To send to me, a lucky one,
Able to enjoy the luxuries
Of hot baths, soft sheets, idle purchases
Of long walks (for my health), saying
Yay or nay to well-paid work;
Of overseas trips (in pursuit of travel, but where is Bangladesh?)
Lots of wine, correspondence, friends
Indulgence of whims
But for me no time to sit down to write Merry Christmas
To Manoj, a young boy in Bangladesh who
Wrote his name and drew a shiny sketch of a flower
On a Christmas card.
For me, the lucky one,
To receive his card.