I don’t believe a minute that it hurts
but he walked out the door I gave him
what a false sense of relief
even though I have to be the kind of
person can’t handle this stuff
there’s a word for it like supermuffin
he ties his hair up with my underpants
and I lose everything about myself
it just happens
then he tears my head down into little smokes
and I have to go and do stupid things
like call him up in the middle of the night
it’s a fascination with leather
I’d rather not have
in the elevator we kiss like
angel jailbait and then I walk
out of the party into the night
where I personally know the cockeyed moon
it’s telling me something
force yourself to concentrate
it’s an oracle that cockeyed moon
first published in can we have our ball back?
