Your love is a fun house,
where bodies of myself are tied
to a bed post, begging
to be spanked, they crawl over each
other, they
dance in furry skins and purr
like cats.
Your love is a
vibration. It assaults my senses with
your absence,
my absence,
on hot muggy days it runs
from Chapel Hill to Milwaukee,
Ashville to St. Louis,
Oklahoma City to
Madison to Boston to
everywhere but Chicago,
where
I am
a superb
imposition.
(t minus two weeks) (7.8.15)
