i could love you
not in the way you want, of course
but like a trash bag after a child’s birthday party
or the windshield washer fluid after a bird shits all over your car
from gobbling down too many sweet, delicious berries
i could clean you up, make you whole,
show you what my obsession is all about
so that you could truly see yourself for what you are,
what you want to be, the guy in the Modern Love music video
all chaos and earnest yearning
i could offer my unyielding attention,
eyes darting across the room at every lithe act,
your nimble prowess on full display
to the lone audience member in rapt trance
while the party dances to some muzak
i could tolerate your insanity, your drive,
keep adding gears to the machine as it stumbles along
despite itself falling apart
at hearing the sound of its own being
i could mold myself
pupate in the presence of progesterone and carrot salad
replace this corpse with ethereal beauty
and mild disinterest to keep your attention
i could die for you like a fawn
running at twilight over freshly poured asphalt,
liver and heart spilling out due to a teenage driver
who cried and called his step-dad not knowing what to do
i could consume your soul
devouring every glob and morsel
and yet be left with more human essence than when i started,
maw stuffed but still your body whole
i could love you
truly, i could,
if you existed at all