I'm meeting her at the coffee shop today.
what should I wear
i don't think she ever liked my hair
long and straight and boring
would she love it a little more
if I chopped it off with a bread knife
maybe Scotch scissors would be better
i know she likes glasses with cranberry frames
would she love me more
if I put a pair of them on
what if I bake my skin under the sun
frosted cocoa, overheated crepes
would she love me more
her universe and her galaxies
are her smart phone's augmented fantasies
would she love me more if i took
her hand and climbed through the noose
had the chair been made of cardboard
she would rather staple her thighs to the seat
feed on cheap hand games and texts from not me
instead of butterscotch cake and twelve noon sun
would she love me more if we sat
together
till we grow grey and old and fat
feeding each other
she bubbles and bursts at the melodious ring
of black comedy
'the sleeping and the dead are but as pictures'
would she love me more if i laughed
together
with her even when the body on the floor
is mine
she already loves somebody
else
would she love me back if i slid knife
under nose two-fifty times
frying pan against skull six-fifty times
so that i would be just whom
she would love to
love
?
Why do I even bother?
She is already engaged.
YOU ARE READING
Harlequin
Poetrycome indulge in voluminous daydreams and help yourself on raging tidal emotions. • poetry collection
