I did my best to hold back. I did it for
you. I wouldn't retract. But you see,
I'm making up for lost time -
since you've left me I had a lot
going on in my mind. I thought of you
every night. And last night I dreamt
of kissing you, though I know that doesn't
sound right. But there was something
there before you left that kept you
tightly woven between my breast -
maybe it was a sign of hope -
since I can't get back what I lost,
what a dope! And one could say that
it's the ***** in these words. But I've
only a few sips, and haven't touched
the cherries yet that have sunk like my heart
to the bottom of my glass. And the editor said
I sound like Bukowski, which is a far cry
from the Dickenson that you read. Oh,
and did I tell you that my *** is sore
and bleeds? Oh, no more, no more -
those are just promises. And my fingers
are crossed behind my back -
so it doesn't count. And what I lack
I make for in provisions. Don't you love
a smart-***!