What I like about you is that you dance like a chicken on the dirty ground,
is that entertainment comes quick, a shiver voice
and U.S. dollars spread in my fingers across the bar counter
yes, i'll take you home.
You buck your feathers, I groan speechless
it's momentary like annuals
that, whoops, are flowering again next year,
guess I was wrong.
I don't want to grow up to find myself momentary,
sleeping on the couch for years.
bulbs bursting against a shared living space wall -
don't stain me,
don't leave a mark on this new white whatever.
One day, two years, if only and the marks you make turn solid,
like rocks baked in the sun,
like the softest thing I've ever touched, right beside
the morning mail between the coloring book.
I reach to primal. I'm the defective microwave timer,
call a cab
call someone else to take
you
home.
But yeah, I'll meet you there.
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