You can talk to me if
you've got "surrender @ nine on Friday"
as a legitimate line
on your to-do list
and you mean
to the police--
Assault in the Third, a misdemeanor
There were times when you
would laugh it off
with a huge vat of bourbon on hand
but now it's not so funny
that you haven't put pants on
or seen someone's face today
You'll just suck 'til it numbs you.
With biceps too thin
for the width of your shoulders
and gonads too small
for the size of your mouth--
who will be the one who claims you?
Who will choose to leave them out?
You know what's wrong with me
but refuse to share the news.
For shame, with your cool million.
For humming like a heroin hooker.
For needing some fuzz on the peach
I've loved all of you
despite your forgetfulness.
Somehow, I still do.