with a heart sticker on his lapel
this weekend poet who failed to find full voice
refuses to entertain the blues
or play some Leonard Cohen song
--yet my bloodstream you contaminate
like the first drag on a cigarette
flesh inching nearer
the persuasion of your hips
early morning latte stains
a testimony to that second drink
as easy glasses and lines excite
the fuel of fantasy
and forever seeming such a short time
when wooed with booze and amphetamine
and a lover's moon
on the fake leather seat of a York multi-gym
abandoned for moments
this coupling
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