(hey - by the end it starts to makes sense!)
Witness this
we words work wonders
deliberate misses, don’t strike the missus
“Today I was threatened with a baseball bat”
so I’ve been saving kisses, and I’m
done compensating with a kitty cat. I
switch too fast, hang on
get steam, make it last; we
oscillate, can’t let your logic penetrate – I don’t
have time for eventual comprehension
we have a seven-city tour of
the
septic tanks.
If you were exhausted like me
these little bits are plenty feed
so don’t choose, just beg
be satisfied, signals collide we sigh
don’t die yet, go on a diet
of fibrous thoughts, roughage regurgitated
for rectal rumination, when you
barely gather your carcass
after sweat and elation
victorious and arbitrary
competition is something scary on your
face and I’d
marry that face to mine
and await my bottle of wine
we circled that date
months in advance
and now I’m ready
done floggin’ the remote
or switching sides in my one-paddle boat;
let’s watch every program; I don’t interrupt.
[Although I might occasionally curse the sky and get up if
it’s one of those two-hour documentaries
on the history of the menstrual cup!]
4 comments:
I can't get off of this couch. I can't dial out on this remote.
i really like this one. good rhythm to it. also, i like the subject matter. mmm... words.
do not hate on menstrual cups!
I'm not sure it's about words.
I think partly it's about the way in which posts find themselves on this blog.
It's also about a girl.
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