Trying to reconcile Harry Potter’s hairy chest
Nice day. Felt peachy
all along. Painted the sky blue.
“Oh, Sun,
which face shall I wear tomorrow?”
A siren in the distance puts in
a request: “Supreme Fiction,
please.” But I’ve more a mind
for a teddy bear & a pink feather boa.
I’m gay at the gym (he was
leaving, I was coming)
looking forward to a very nice run
with a servile grin. And then.
He walks into the bedroom
with a mohawk
just as I slobber gracelessly
toward Happyland. This gets me
incredibly romantic and
a little insomnia. Thus,
I pick up the television set,
or try to. I broke my back!
Lying here in recovery.
I love the papadams and
the fish pakoras. Lesson:
don’t you listen to no siren.
