how can I be the instrument of
your being, sugar-bumps -
this low-tail existence
permeates me, our dowry
is perchance the sweeticums of
porno
but however this falls, I'm with
you, baby
nothing absolute became that way
by being
absolute - tricks and mirrors -
like the idea of falling down -
I remember our first date, the
dress -
all our longings side-tracked by
misinformation
and misfortune - though we sang
a lot
gliding into what we thought was
love -
What the fuck was that? - and I
listened and
we disengaged, pirouetting...
Though I've never mastered being
malcontent,
it features in your eyes. As if
I cry for every death in the
world.