Hey, look at that— petunias near a curb,
yet I can’t help but think it’s still superbly
about you, you as you coyly hold back
beyond the frame, saying matter-of-factly
that it’s not about me and no “me” here.
But everyone knows. It’s totally clear.
Garish enough, however you treat it:
no need for initials, no portrait needed.
