One of my favorite poems,
is taped to the refridgerator door–
going in lushious lines about some plum.
this poem,
isn’t like that.
I never told you,
but I thought about loving you once.
rolled the fantasy in my mouth
tasted the idea for days.
still hadn’t given up the thought.
but,
this poem,
isn’t like that,
it isn’t about that.
you found this taped to the back door,
reminding you that you ought to lock the door after us.
My key’s on the kitchen counter.
Don’t call.
