Your eyes are as blue as a Slurpee from 7/11
Your mouth looks like wax lips but less big and less red.
If you asked me to, I would:
Eat an apple.
Switch to inkjet pens.
Roll in the hay with you and a bear from Guangdong Province.
I spoke to your husband yesterday.
When you picked Johnny instead of me during class
I wanted to stab a million cactus needles into my face.
Just to feel something real.
But I didn’t have a hall pass
So I couldn’t.
I want you to use your executive power over my judicial branch.
When you are absent my morning wood disappears.
I am filled with that empty feeling. You know the one.
My nice black track pants lie flat.
I know you saw me when I turned in my homework last Thursday.
We will finally be alone when
I give little Johnny an ice cream cone and lock them both in an airless coffin.