Can. But. Do.
When. Can't. Because.
This gravity is a exquisite blend!
I prefer a little booze in my tea, thank you.
And a little batting in my violet tirades.
I bat my eyelashes for pleasure. I pleasure
ticks with tickles.
A pen-pal's silent lament; a radio
static over a foreign-language station
in the middle of a garden
at the top of a belltower or where we met
yesterday.  Before then, it was raining.  After,
the attic and a lapse.
She judges things to be not worth her time.
Like "the willenneium", "batboy", and "Baby Jessica".
I prefer tricycles, their uneven glide, the hopeful daisies of spokes aspin
aspirin, aspic, as pictures of urns go
that one's not too bad:
sometimes a lover isn't needed. sometimes a need isn't
quite what you ask for, and so a lover would complicate things even more
like a macrame plant holder you can't get rid of
or a friend you can't hang onto. Like so much
wind in your pocket. I'm the best friend
and the garbage man in one.
The noble effort, the floppy fish.