So you picture yourself
in a cream satin t-shirt
writing a poem about
you writing a poem about
your cream satin t-shirt,
how when he breaks in
on you writing a poem about
writing a poem about
your cream satin t-shirt,
he’ll be so excited
about you so excited
about writing a poem
about him so excited,
he’ll shred the damn t-shirt,
sweep you and your poem
right off your futon
and someone will publish
your poem because it is
true as a t-shirt,
besides which, the paper
is cream, like the t-shirt.
And, smooth as it is,
the poem you’re writing
about writing a poem,
who needs the boy?
Or if he shows up,
while you’re still in your t-shirt,
all cream and all satin,
who needs the poem?
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