What great pleasure it is
to not have to figure out
if the tuna sandwich is a boy or girl
before it becomes a part of me.

I don't have to wonder
if the tasty adjectives I'm going to use
to glorify it will need to multiply
or even worse, change sexuality,
if I decide to have more than one

This afternoon, I'm trying to find
the appropriate tense to describe
how the wind whistled
over the empty plastic cup last night,
startling the old dog
and setting the cat's ears twitching
But then I remember, I don't even know
the word for "whistle" in French

But I wish someone were here
to bring good tidings to my appetite
and perhaps bid my footsteps well
when I get up to take the 10 minute walk
back to the house
where the smell of freshly baked croissants
have soaked into the walls

At least I know they're filled with yellow cheese
and this time I remember
one of the first words I learned
in this intricate language I'm wrestling
is fromage.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

I had a hobby,
He left...

a hidden pothole
flying hipster bellyflops
onto the sidewalk