Two Erics? How did that happen? Is it a coincidence or kismet? Let’ give ’em both a read before we decide. Here’s our first, Eric Forsbergh. The Love Poetry of Eric Forsbergh My Lucky Jacket  My lucky jacket drapes me pleasingly:  a cross between the wings of victory  and an asbestos fire suit.  A cloth talisman,  it buffs my confidence   to polished brass.  After all, I wore it  during our initial kiss.  It’s my fabric shield   the eyes of trolls roll off.  On my motorcycle, in the rain,  I swear this jacket wards me   from a lightning strike.  You’re my loving skeptic.  You claim it’s not a coffin or a cure.  You claim what counts  will rise within my skin.  My lucky jacket? Some days  it’s like a rescue blanket made of foil:  shiny and…

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