Praise out of season, or tactlessly bestowed, can freeze the heart as much as blame
The Beautiful Poem
by Richard Brautigan
I go to bed in Los Angeles thinking
about you.
Pissing a few moments ago
I looked down at my penis
affectionately.
Knowing it has been inside
you twice today makes me
feel beautiful.
3 A.M.
January 15, 1967
