I met a lover, once
In a diner where the mud was strong
Everyone was honey, and heart attacks were delicious
He gave her a bag filled with
Her favorites, and drizzles of lexicon
(She was the only script he ever burned)
Not a word was returned
But her chatoyant glazzies watered
And he swore for
A moment
She loved him back
Disproportionate, I thought, to the months he'd spent
Planning a tribute for her origin day
Less than I spent on his remembered name
As it trickled down a dampened page
Runny, like he hated his eggs (a shame)
I sipped my mud and wondered
Why do men love rope