with muscles made of lemons, yeah: lemons.
I love the way morning turns grayer than dawn's pink
or the childlike way that the rhythm of the B.Q.E.
rocks me to sleep when you're not here.
You get prime space in my mind.
Are you sitting? Well when you stand
there are famous people right next
to you all akimbo with definite chillaxing
and super-ridiculous pulmonary effort.
I mean, I'm on to you and all the things
you stand for, on, and over and out. I can't
lift you higher than I did while kissing
that little love button that says "go go."
And then I do get up because maybe I've had
enough and I can do this in style
but I'd rather you found me dancing
all jazzed and joyful for simply being
awake at all in this rabid century.
Are you on my team? I would like to start
a team and I would like you on it.