How do I love thee? Let me count the strays,
I mean lays. Scratch that. Who are you anyway?
What pot of honey is hidden in your snake hole,
what black currents in your eyes? I think
that I shall never see or go fucking crazy if I do
again. Well, crazier. Burned fields of face-down photos,
grand acidic cities, grand tell-alls to ghosts,
glaciers of vodka, how should I know?
Once we were children in a garden.
Buy that? How about we got as far
as the padlock? The beehives were candled,
your thigh a soap-slide, we both had a family
friend who also cried mountains. Let’s not
go back. Let’s watch it burn, the thee in me.
Let’s flee. Now can I have a drink?