After reading Coleridge's "Kubla Khan"

I boarded a bus today
For Willikoochie, Georgia.
Not many people know that’s
Where Samuel’s soul sojourns.

I wanted to talk to him,
To ask advice, maybe. You
See, my writing isn’t quite
What I want it to be.

But right away, I was
Distracted. There was a girl
On the bus – not pretty, but
Still distracting. I stared.

I undressed her with my
Eyes. I thought that’s what she meant –
“Please undress me with your eyes.” –
With her cold, scornful glare.

In Willikoochie, she
Did not join me for dinner.
I ate alone, then found Sam.
He was in a bad mood.

“You look Jewish,” he said.
Of course I don’t, but we know
Each other, Sam and I. “So?”
“So, no Jews before nine.”

Sam was just in a mood.
I went back to town until nine.
When I returned, I brought Sam
Some honey-dew and milk.

We talked until ten, and
Sam pretended not to know
What it’s like, not having your
Writing be what you’d want.

Well, fine. “If you don’t want
To talk, let’s just play cards.” “Fine!”
He understood, of course. But
He can’t write anymore.

I left Sam the cards, all
Sticky with honey-dew juice.
He said I could call again
And then called me more names.

On the bus back, the same
Girl was there. But she’d put on
A front-clasp bra that my eyes
Couldn’t unfasten.