And So I Resort To Cigarettes.

poetry

I know there are Those, but they are not him, and he is not that.

And, in my deepest animal, I wish it were-

Careening, demanding, needing

me, my arch-in-back as

I twist before his Readiness, his angst.

Hoping for the best only to find nothing;

a shrew to tame for my own dear desire.

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