by Pey Pey Oh
I am stalking Neil Gaiman on Twitter,
I know when he’s cutting his crazy hair;
when he walks his white dog Cabal and his
new puppy Lola;
when he saw bear shit in the Minnesotan woods.
I know that he’s been stung by the bees four times - that’s once a year
since he’s had them, or mopping up fountain pen spills on his front pocket,
I know when he is oiling pigs with his mate Wossy
and I know he only wears black T-shirts and
hates shopping for clothes. And I always know
when he’s got a tux on.
I know when he’s flying out to meet his
fiancèe Amanda Palmer who might be dressing
up right now as half a Siamese twin called Evelyn
or if he’s playing the tambourine, or the chain saw
with her at the Boston Pops, or kissing her in Poland;
I stalk them both so I can see when they tweet
“I love you” or when she hands out
pink peonies from a bouquet from his publishers,
to random Londoners.
So today I am writing poetry and stalking Neil Gaiman
on Twitter, so I know he was following the news
on Russian spy rings in New Jersey infiltrating
the PTA and the fact that in South Carolina
you must register and file a form for $5 if you wish to
overthrow the government,
But really I am thinking I’d like to try the recipe
he tweeted for cherry crumble with a whole stick of butter,
so when I am not writing poetry for the rest of today:
I’ll be baking.
© Pey Pey Oh 2010

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