tired of this dance
get to the red meat
bleed for me
pretend just a little
you like it rare
you like me
I know you’ll let me down
say something wrong
a lie to the brand
but I’ll believe you,
anyway,
I’ll let you
sweep me up
in grandiose
justification
a defense mechanism
for mixing up wishes and dreams
and a fancy way of holding onto
a tchotchke
you don’t need
I’ll float along
your shallow sea
you’ll lube me up
just to get in there
and I’ll open wider
just a little
pretending
my candy isn’t
bittersweet
and you aren’t really gay
or in love with someone else
named April
back in the land of hollister
it’ll be date rape, and silpada friendship,
and angry little man church,
and all of those ties that bind,
of course,
like any other saturday
before graduation
two hours before clocking in
and I’ll have learned nothing
until the next audition
for the next hollywood motion picture
where marilyn monroe falls for
the ugliest man in the world
and his shiny millions
next time,
she says,
I’ll be sade