Woke up from a pair of scissors. In a book of meanings,
means estrangement. Must’ve asked into a cupboard, haven’t you
and I been torn apart in every manner imagined?
Women on their break who never say "ironic" find a sport
in the thin girl at reception, her gut the size of her head.
One serves, "What was her nod for when she hasn’t a relationship?"
Your silence tonight over my upside-down is the one
kind word at that table: "Maybe her last man wasn’t a nightmare".
How I wish to respond at times, we make love not to dream.