It was one of one thousand white
strokes on your bedroom wall.
you were watching London
pastures on google earth
and whispering exposition to me
of some French foreign film.
That black garbage bag was full
of Vonnegut's 'hi hos'
tickets and pictures
oh, and a green pepper.
The transmogrification of metal to man
-Shelly's Frankenstein-
took place from Michigan to Illinois.
I watched the sunfall
and laughed into my seat belt.
You tailgated
"two men and a truck"
the entire way.
lips tuning guitars and
when the snow melted
my birth certificate was on your lawn
and squirrels were scrambling for a
piece but it had no taste.
ships nazis pirates
all tattooed in the knife
on your back.
you hate it when i quote voltaire.
It was unnecessary to throw the entire
box of donuts into the street.
I was wearing a black shirt
you'd bought me at the time and
pigeons ate the sugar rocks
as my shoes echoed into the night
"I do this, I do that
I do this, I do that".
I liked the turqoise necklace
noodles cupcakes and
wasabi mashed potatoes.
you did give me Anthony Aronicka's
Newsweek, every week.
those death diamonds,
political blunders,
Palestinian periscopes.
I learned.
Please destroy the executive documents...
Oh, and that mint mojito tasted
like a dirty river, by the way.
the green chairs with the
chipped paint face
each other in my kitchen.
I've taken my own advice
perhaps.
stick to being serious.
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