Love Poem

You must be accustomed to gentle hands
if you think everyone has slighted you
think about your costume: you're soaking in it!
You need to make sense of that because I can't.
We say hello gently or not at all and that's okay.
All of the details are really adding up like a good fucking
in warm light. My mountain has
a name (the idea that someone named a mountain
after me because I'm so hard to get over
and all that crap). I mean, if I wrote "I have a gun"
on a dollar and sent you to the bank
to get change for laundry, you might get arrested; so
I would never do that just to see what would
happen, I promise. What you can do is kick someone
when they're up and hug them when they're down
which makes no sense to me either-it's
something a boss would say.
Any day of the week there are
really good things to do in the city; stuff
that is amazing to me-stuff that gets me choked.
In a moment I'm going to get all up in your grill about goodness
and light and pro this or pro that. But first a message
from the sponsor of this poem.