distrusts
I distrust anything that requires charging but isn’t at 100%
I plan to flirt with sincerity
only to withdraw it
like an unwanted handshake.
This is a love poem that distrusts love.
A relative of mine fell in love
with his late-night waitress at waffle house.
She had a way of taking an order.
She wasn’t rushed, she understood his choices,
and her apron reminded him of his mama.
He felt seen and cared for - isn’t that what we all want?
All love blooms on the edge of hazard.
How could I, in my busy and less-than virtuous youth
have ever solved the riddle-like mystery of his love?
Our truth has always been balanced
his admiring but chaste love with
my sweaty and frictional passion.
My love is honest - upon heaven I swear it.
I hate the wind that chafes him,
the sun that burns him,
and the sand that roughs him.
If our love should die,
it’s important to note,
the gun was in both of our hands.
And eventually, should some AI lover replace him
he’ll be missed, forever-ish.
.
.
Songs for this:
Gravity Blues by Geese
Bust Your Knee Caps by Pomplamoose
Chained to the Rhythm by Nataly Dawn & Sarah Clanton
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