last night a friend called me at 2.15
and talked about love
I was sleepy but I stayed up
because the question of love has
always puzzled me
I have often wondered, in reveries
whether sleeping or awake,
while sitting on the crapper
while fiddling with my john
watching porn
combing my girlfriend’s hair
brushing my dog’s coat
in and out of the doctor’s clinic
drinking beer and catching up with an old friend
driving into town, blind
without my spectacles, and with them.
Love, this chasm of human suffering
where all joy dies,
where I lost my virginity
thinking it would make her LOVE me
hoping that ejaculating on a woman’s panties
is the pinnacle of romance
wondering if she did actually put out
or was I dreaming the entire time
shoving my weiner into a foxhole
anyway, I am told that LOVE is mysterious and strange
by nuns and 50 year old married guys, prancing around
in lungis and boxer shorts
beaten on the daily by their fat annoying wives
or by God, with his divine dickie
Then there are the facebook rants
by sapiosexuals or pansexuals or one of 76 gendered geckos
informing us that the normal has shifted,
changed shape
that tolerance is the new NORMAL
sisterhood the new LOVE
and liberalism, the new GOD
All this while, my friend sobs and talks about never finding love
such miserable creatures we are
slave to fake gods
children of subliminal advertising.
Brilliant work.
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Thanks. I was nervous about this one.
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