wake up, get kissed on the head.
one-two, just like that.
if the day must be what he makes it,
this is how he’s got to start it out.
it’s got to be gentle. and genuine.
warm and earnest. it’s got to be all
of these things without hesitance
and without fail, because this,
and only this,
is how paper men can keep
themselves comfortably distant
from the betrayal of being cut.

there are many betrayals wrought down
upon the fragile and feeling man;
many of which he has imagined,
or predestined. maybe wished for.
it is more comfortable to admit failure
through a burst lip.

he must be cured of this notion,
radicalized only by love.
awakened by seeing his body treasured,
read.  he is no longer a napkin, in love,
but an almanac . no longer a paper man
but a hefty recollection
of his plentiful passing paper peers.