Today, my friends, I am a setter of trends, a breaker of the laws of pant. I bring to you a vision of things to come: THE JOCKET. Yes, the handsome man in the picture beneath these words is indeed me, and yes, that brown splotch I'm pointing at is a gateway to tomorrow. Even our dog Lego was atounded.



So how did this wonderment come about? Allow me to expound. Last night we were sitting on the couch watching Il Postino, and it occured to me that this little poet is frequently bereft of a medium on which to record his miracles of verse. And so BEHOLD! The Jocket sprang forth from the heavens and struck my imagination like a spring loaded Rock'em Sock'em robot punch!



It was deviously simple. Take a pair of pants that doesn't fit, cut out a square, and sew it on a pair that does fit. The trick, of course, is making that square the perfect size for a journal. Journal + Pocket = JOCKET!!!



So where did I learn to sew so well? I didn't. Eralda's mother is a wicked wicked seamstress. She pumped this sucker out in like 20 minutes. Little did she know that with every thread loop she was forging a legacy. Her hands will go down in history as the hands belonging to the first Jocket jockey! How joyous! To commemorate the birth of the Jocket I penned a pleasing poem:

sea change

this prayer leaves from lips
calloused by courser words
they return to me; every utterance
wriggling like tape worms
at the lobe of my ear

so i send these words
Christ words
savior words
hoping that
though they be
but drops of iodine
in the blackest sea
they might turn
the whole thing red
that crimson waves
might drown the dead

that these paper boats
i send aloft
might find their berth
in a gentle cove
of an island where
what drives me
what finishes me
is an infinity, Lord,
with you.