a poem to lou reed*
feeding the animals
everything they want
and never getting
that perfect day,
you left me hangin' on.

while the girls sang,
we found that vivacious
slightness you'd felt
as we began feeling that light,
they blinded us in your mirror.

now we're twisted
waiting for the shine
those boots of leather
to the transformation,
we can't say we're not forsaken.