You're an 8-ball of dopamine,
a six-foot-two golden chalice
of fuck, yes, and two giant letters
I can't accept as a complete sentence.
YES, I say. My will be done.
Your impossible arms and lips,
the sliver of spine mid-cartwheel.
Those impossible parts can only exist
smashed into me. Run here and live.
I have two tiny kneecaps
and one beauty mark missing your worship.
Let me let you be that effusive
with the rest of me.
Even my chin will be yours.
