You turn me on
(read me like a book
write me like a program
play with my memory
and my function keys
then
you wipe me out.)

Run.

I’d write a poem about/for you
if that was what you made me do.

Watching him
*******
makes me glad.

I don’t.

I am writing
this poem
for a girl
who wants me
to prove my love for her
by writing
this poem.

You know
I love you
so please don’t
make me write
this poem
which I can show to anyone.

It was night
I was afraid of mosquitoes coming in
So I wrote
in the moonlight
in ink
in the glow of the cigarette
I smoked out of the window.

It was night
two trees had their solitude disturbed
So were fighting
in the distance
in the wind
in the night to regain it
to be alone again.

It was night
I was afraid you wouldn’t come
Now the light had gone out
in my room
in the country
in my heart I still burned for you
and so did the cigarette.

I love her, she doesn’t
flinch when I tell her
she’s heard it too many times
before
she met me in a bar
I thought it was the first time
so I said it
again
just to make sure
she was jealous
of some body
else
who’d only (over)heard it
once.

So many women in bed
All asleep.