Posted Without the Permission of Andrew Mister,

This poem, which he wrote for me.


Poem for Tony Robinson

You write poems about things
that I think about when I masturbate.
What does that say about me, about you?
I bite my lip in San Francisco.
In San Francisco if you aren't part
of a scene, you're not part of anyone.
In Eugene you raise a can of old gold
to your lips. I like saying "old gold."
There, I said it twice. Nowadays,
the scenery has become pixilated,
a reflection of ourselves, a reenactment
of that scene in "Deliverance"
by a high school drama club.
The night I met you, I hit on
a girl named Eugenia. She'd written
a book. She had a boyfriend. I called her.
She never called me back. The novel
"Deliverance" was written by a poet.
I've only read one of his poems;
it was about a boy fucking a sheep,
not something I think about
when I masturbate. He also wrote
the slogan: "Coke: it's the real thing"
which we all know is a lie but believe
anyway, like everything I've ever
wanted to say to a beautiful woman
across a field of ashen flowers.
Some nights the stars are only there
to burn you. Any tranny walking
down Polk Street will tell you so.