A Letter to Ray Johnson

You stuffed my mailbox's full of collages without titles.
A peeled orange opens,
and your writing hand cramps.
don't ask questions
for no answers are needed.

Andy and you trained factory workers,
saw the hilarity in nothing
spared change for your empy pockets
and rented apartments for $28 a month.
full of utilities.

your closest friends have never known
who you are
and that's the joke.
your self-portrait is stripe-colored-boxes
the pictures laugh
when others call you crazy.

no explanation needed for a January swim.
the bridge was a diving platform that
caused excitment before the icey plunge.
and you kept backstroking when others called out.
and you kept backstroking when others called out.

dontaskquestions

-Ray's unknown friend..