my head is rattling loose
not set right on its tracks
my eyes a jelly blur.
i am failing you
it hurts me
i do not know how to fail.
to think that i would
cross on a red for you
to hold your sweet and sweaty hand
as we fight
incompetent salespeople
petty tyrants and kings
bravely, together
to know that i could
hold you when you're sick
breathe your fever in
and remain perfectly still
and calm and straight,
your standard in a field of the fallen.
oh, love...
to hand you
the secret key of me
that would dissolve my brightly-painted shell
because i know you wouldn't
do it, i know you wouldn't
use it
would you?
or would you?
oh, would you.
6/12/96
