Fool Me Good

I am under the covers

waiting for the heat to come up

with a gurgle and hiss

and the banging of the water hammer

that will frighten the cold out of the room.

And I am listening to a blues singer

named Precious Bryant

singing a song called "Fool Me Good."

If you don't love me, baby, she sings,

would you please try to fool me good?

I am also stroking the dog's head

and writing down these words,

which means that I am calmly flying

in the face of the Buddhist advice

to do only one thing at a time.

Just pour the tea,

just look into the eye of the flower,

just sing the song-

one thing at a time

and you will achieve serenity,

which is what I would love to do

as the fan-blades of the morning begin to turn.

If you don't love me, baby,

she sings,

as a day-moon fades in the window,

and the hands circle the clock,

would you please try to fool me good?

Yes, Precious, I reply,

I will fool you as good as I can,

but first I have to learn to listen to you

with my whole heart,

and not until you have finished

will I put on my slippers,

squeeze out some toothpaste,

and make a big foamy face in the mirror,

freshly dedicated to doing one thing at a time-

one note at a time for you, darling,

one tooth at a time for me.