I always think -

that I am better than the ones they choose
over me at midnight on a Friday morning.

There he is with his clean shoes
pressed shirt
clean cut
and smoking his Camels
dripping with security and predictability.

I don't have a plan
or a clue.
My shirt is faintly stained
and I'm going on four years old
and long ago shaved off my hair
and quit smoking (mostly).

But.

I could give her love like she wouldn't believe

She would scream,
and cry -

her ruby eyes
rolling up in her skull like marbles
as she forgets where I begin
and she
ends.

So while they both pull away
in his shiny new car
with all the payments paid a few days in advance
just to be safe and responsible,
I'll be here
dreaming of gentle flesh
and angry love.