bullshit meter to max

when someone calls
me a nice girl i see
cloverleaf exits and spoonfed
imprints. how much i can
reasonably get
proscribing need;
how much i can unreasonably get,
the hairshirt someone else wears
for their own divine purpose.







*

so walk on. just like bono wails
in that song you liked to pick
whenever we went for drinks and a rueben
sandwhich at the point after. remind me
over and over how your heart breaks
and your body aches. i'm just a pair of eyes
listening, nothing
for your life nothing in the big schematic
where my diode rectifies for muy big waves
but yours are in a completely different circuit.
the leap from here to there a consequence of too full
pockets on the billiards table. or a guinea pig
tested in the stanly cup. or whatever the fuck
cup they have for golf, the game you always compete in
only against yourself.