31

*

Today I gave up on my needs,
my soul no longer down for the pursuit.

The sun is a bully, a stab artist with a friendly rep.
She's formed you into a golden-hued horse
silent except for your lush tail. I hate your hair.

Auntie cries: I can't find my daughter! Claims cousin
never gave her, her cell number, wants me to go to
the post office and ask the nice fellow with the red
bow tie, where she can find her child.

Fine. I lie. Hey, my own apples are getting soft.
Besides. Well. Besides, I don't really care.

Where is the love, where is my Oliver?
If I sleep with the movie star around the corner,
I'll have to beg and squirm. I don't have the energy.

Wish I never broke my best friend's wings.
We could be flying to Jupiter right now.

***