458 Readings

This used to be a love poem.

I’ll kiss you up and down and out the window
like my parakeet
which flew out the window
because I threw it.

Maybe ‘other person’ keeps you hot-up in the postmeridiem?

I will make you cry like the puppy I ran over
which still has some living parts.

I drive you to the beach.
The moon is a gleaming ice-cream.
Ineptly, there is an otter.

I won’t drown you in the ocean, which is a safe place.
I only drown otters.

Now that my bird is orbiting the earth every two-and-a-half hours,
for it the sun sets each time I bang my head onto this desk.

All I have left to tell you is:

I wanted to bake you a pink red-bean cake.
Posted 01/04/13
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