i am writing down numbers
there's a look in your eyes
that screams
moscow, bitches!you've pinned god to the ottoman
like a crushed mosquito elsewhere
munching moon the kids play dominoes quietly
pretend to give a fuck i dare you
i swear once i published in this literary quarterlyand start to hold my breath and think virgin again
dear brethren and sistren infatuated with irony
i swear the depth of this bread goes on forever
while a good portion of the world is starving
the balls of this poem are sagging south
i've stopped making plans expecting her call
i can't sit through movies at all anymore
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