We slept together everywhere, between the television shows
and the static, among the pastoral, the cows and goats,
naked in the razor grass. You can't imagine how nice
it was to floss your teeth with grass and gnaw at morning fog.
When we slept together like acrobats, slung limp stomach'd
over antennas, Paul said we bothered NPR—that all
the soft voices and violins of Garrison Keillor's throat
broke out in broken crescendos, with no down, no stop,
no harmony, and let me tell you,
when we slept together in Garrison Keillor's throat, three infants, nude,
and birthed ourselves out into tired Midwestern towns,
let me tell you, WHEN WE SLEPT TOGETHER IN
GARRISON KEILLOR'S THROAT,
that was the one, that was the one, I surely fell in love.