If she didn't color her hair,
what color would it be,
I ask,
making early morning holiday
bed talk

Gray, she replies

disputation, I say,
for I see yet much
brune underneath,
nary a single hairy grayling

smiling with affection,
she salutates:

appearances of a changeling,
perhaps,
I am or always be,

like one of your new poems,
using old words for new colors,
my rainbow always ends,
decorating our bed

I said to a chair
Can you please stop
touching my ***
It said no no no
it's so much fun

I said no to drugs once.
I looked a bag of **** right in the face
and, like a loving but firm father,
I said, "No."
I was really high.