what a task
you’ve burdened me with
having to dance like i’m enjoying it
as you watch
masked through the glass
pretending i’m unaware you’re there
wigs, trench coats, switching booths every night
none of it’s working, baby
you’re nothing
if not a predictable animal
it’s your scent
words
and references
that betray you
i could spy with my little eye
and point you out from the blimp
hovering over a pirates game
no
i won’t look up
because in my dreams
i’m curled around you in the back seat
of a taxi cab
weeping for all we lost in the war
confessing to the vicar of god
it’s the sound of your voice
i’ve missed the most
no
i won’t smile at you
smiling is for pussies