For Time & Being
like totally trying to attach a wristwatch
to thin air is disastrous or trying
to wave goodbye with a phantom limb
is just so retarded.
I tried to tell you love is glamorous
that it doesn't always end with the same dull thud
of a half-eaten chicken thrown at the side
of a dumpster. It doesn't suck to be us
because that just isn't possible.
You see, I designed this shit
to be springy and tinny with delight.
My fascination with necks
and calf muscles and other
amusements of the Brooklyn class
is really delightful at its core.
The smell of amber in May on my pillow.
I want to do with you
what rich people do every Sunday morning.
You didn't lose me and I deserve this.
I won a mystical swan
for my sophistication and restraint.
If we went to Paris, we would walk
around not biting people at all
because that's just the way we'd roll.
Now imagine it times 16. Now watch a
French movie and speak fake French
until people tell you to grow up.
And then don't wave when they leave.