The Menace of Gifts

It's what you expect
in return that gets me down
you're burned out
the flame retardant
on your childhood pajamas is still
giving me a headache
what were you doing in the kitchen
mixing fudge with a wooden spoon
stoned on actifed
a lanky medicine machine
fact: they exiled poets
in Plato's republic of charming
mistakes like all contemporary
things music is also a commodity
I'm throttled by the pleasure
your money provides
a censor to my glow
a coin piked in the grass
fact: the professor claimed
the manager
can't read
even with notes etched
on thighs ink protrudes
and makes the jeans look
fashionably used
the day is old
lasting longer than not
having you around anymore.