Friday the Thirteenth and Other Irrational Fears

Falling in love
at abortion clinics
and battening down
a decade of hatches
is enough to make me wonder
if I could have loved the waitress
whose insides smell like pennies.
Copper is an element
I've come to work already.
She made such perfect dinners
and never kicked me out.

I've given diamonds
and white gold for Christmas
against the urging of women
but I've sworn not to do it again
until I can give all they want:  myself.

Currently reading:
"Letters To a Young Poet" by Rainer Maria Rilke.

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