in memory of Charles Schulz on his 100^th birthday

Never thought I’d meet and interview him,
let alone have a hot dog with him in the
Warm Puppy Café,

but as long as I live, I’ll cherish the ride
on the back of a Zamboni around his ice rink
with the man who made the ice resurfacing

machine famous, as if he had all the time
in the world for a young reporter trying to
disguise her devotion to his characters—

not least the beagle atop his doghouse
typing stories—as we cruised the ice,
my cheeks and fingers red with cold,

watching the newly smoothed surface
pass beneath us, as clean and shiny as
Charlie Brown’s sweet head.