I have absolutely no memory of writing this.

Your lips ain’t be white no more and I endeavor to walk off the longest plank

If it means being without you.

And this shit is not Rilkean, nor centered on the page, no gold star affair.

A dog barks and we sip some Chardonnay. Frankly, Mr. Shankly

Since you asked, I’m alone. Thanks for asking.

It is, you see, a way of being. And we emphasize being with italics.

My spelling bee will fall on you, the dankest Yellow Dress. Bad verse has nothing

On you.

To do with it. And I walk because her name is Megan, a woman I loved somewhere

Once.