I did not invite you here, Basho.
Though I appreciate that you
will not overstay your welcome.
You will be brief, succinct, and
in time, depart, and color my
evening in your departure.
I do not believe you would use up
all the guest towels, unlike
my uncle and his strange, loud, wife.
I think she was his wife. You would not
bring yours. Too many voices spoil
the pure sound of night's breeze.
Or it may only be that I remember you only
through a verse about an iron gate, and have
an unreasonably favorable impression,
and you would rather we traded rude jokes
about Mount Fuji, drank our sake warm,
and threw cherry blossoms into the dark air.
Billie Collins on the brain again--
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