a lack of phonecalls, the lambda drive-by, and the art of double-entendre

what's this
sitting alone at home, what am I doing, writing a poem?
while you
are in that big grey house hey pour me another one will you
and I
wanted it wanted you, everyone knows I still do

You live
in that place where there is no sorrow and where
the sun
is warm and bright and no more shadows, where
the air
itself is so intoxicating, becoming more lightheaded with
each kiss
That is what I want I swear it's what I want
That world, spinning summer ecstasy
a place where the light is perfect at sunset
over the clear river-water, and then
you smile at me and
time stops
just
like
that

Give me
something anything I would have given you half of everything
Let me
touch your hand your wrist with the tattoo of
those
damn
Greek
letters

Open the door
even just a sliver and I
don't know what I'll do
like kiss you
scream, fuck you
funny, you know the problem is
just how much
I wanted to