my oh my
we are assholes for love, nay?
try as we might
to maintain the illusion of control
we hold no sway

love is rarely convenient
it shows up in places you don’t expect
and it doesn’t want to hear
your lame excuses

the balls of this fucker love
leaning against a parking meter
in front of
the great granite
netherland hotel

smoking a cigar
all 1933
in a perfectly tailored suit
impervious to the rain

to see me there on race street

all of me
imperfections revealed
makeup running

drag my life and limbs upstairs
slamming wet shoulders into mahogany walls
tongue kissing our way
to me bent over
a 15th floor radiator
admitting that i want it