Craig Cotter

We sat on prison beds

audience part of the play, Los Angeles

Chinatown.

As the second act repeated the first

I walked to Foo Chow's,

texted where I was.

You mixed the rest of the orange chicken in rice

ate the whole bowl

heaped high.

Did you have rice with every meal

with your Sri Lankan family

in Detroit?

*

Thirty years since Michigan State.

*

Dropped you in front of your new Silverlake apartment on Rowena.

*

I stand in front of my stainless kitchen sinks.

Glass vase, rooting flower.

The sink has a sprayer that pulls up.

We had one in Michigan

but my mother didn't let us use it

said if the hose broke it would leak

and destroy us. (Two sump pumps in the basement.)

When I bought this apartment the sink didn't have a sprayer

so I had a plumber put one in.

*

Went to Zuma Beach on 12/31/99 before sunset.

Forgot my camera,

saw a young man taking photos,

asked if he'd email me a copy of that sunset. 

He said sure, gave him my card.

In 2003 he emailed, “Sorry, lost your card, photo attached.”

Seven years later his email failed.

Remembered he was studying engineering at the University of Maryland.

Had his name, Jason Pereira,

started the internet search.

Found him building helicopters in Canada (he’d earned a Ph.D.).

I have a baseball in a plastic cube on my desk

signed by Lou Whitaker and Alan Trammell.

Bought a baseball and a good seat by the Tiger dugout in Anaheim

Whitaker's last year as a player.

When he came in from infield practice I threw the ball, said,

"Lou, would you sign this for me?" He caught it smiling.  Threw my pen.

He signed, tossed it back—got lucky, caught it ink side out.

Wanted Trammell, baseball's number one all-time double-play combination,

but he’d retired.

Fifteen years later, when he was managing the Tigers,

got another seat by the Tiger dugout in Anaheim.

Before the game I called to him in the dugout,

“Alan, I have a baseball signed by Lou Whitaker, will you sign it?”

"Sure, throw it down." 

Before batting practice I looked up at the TV booth high above home plate, yelled,

“Hey Al Kaline!”

He stood-up, looked at me and gave a fist pump.

*

If your art lives on do you avoid death?

*

Frank O’Hara was a good friend

rescued me when I was 6 drowning in the Atlantic

off Fire Island.

*

When you asked, “So what’s been going on?”

over orange chicken at Foo Chow's:

I hugged Mano.

He had me set our alarm for 5 a.m. so he could call a fortune teller in Thailand

who said I was his soul-mate.

I typed a dream quick before heading to work.

Listened to a lot of Beatle rehearsal tapes working on "Don't Let Me Down."

Heard 42 versions and it's nowhere near done.

The heels of my tennis shoes are worn.

Read a ton of Within A Budding Grove,

Proust singing with three voices:

a boy, a man looking back on his childhood and a narrator.

Two very good hook-ups.

I’m tied-up in people knowing

very hot guys still want to sleep with me.

A 19-year-old student from The Netherlands hit on me in the bathroom at the play.

I’d been watching her

thinking what we could do.

Unbuttoned her sweater:

small, taut breasts: I

looked,

stroked,

licked.

Gave her my gay card.

Last week eating Thai with Davin at Sanamluang in North Hollywood

walked in the bathroom

and this really cute Thai guy (slender, long black hair) walked in,

kissed me deep and wet

while grabbing my cock and balls through my shorts.

*

Watched as you talked to people outside after the first act.

During the play we sat on different beds—some of the play I watched you—

like on your orange couch in East Lansing when you were 21.

I hoped we’d stay friends.

You can’t always make that happen

because we spread out and disappear.

Already they’re reading this after we’re gone.

                        --Bernie White!