I only went there to find you,
I pushed the button and now I wait
on your arms,
and your legs,
and the skin between
your thighs.

I want to tell you these lines in staged drama
and feel your honeysuckle tongue
run over my teeth
playing the part even
though they call
cut.

Remember when we laid our heads
on the pillowcase one-eyed sideways
after all that drinking out on
your front
porch?

I wish that I could remember everything
I said there
that made you look at me
like
that.

I want to say it again
now
and mean it.

I want to say it again,
now that I'm
well.

It's a bitter irony
that now I'm ready for you
when I'll most likely never
see you
again.