at Tom Fuck's book release gig.
She was nice, laughed at my joke
about poetry readings being shotgun shacks.
I stole one of Tom's books
from bad breath, found that my name was in the back,
and got too drunk
before seeing something beautiful.
I came to be a terror
under blood,
and when my nine crimes die,
I will simply smile at your nightgown.
Say, grab your diamond dream,
and come with me
to the particle parade
where we will rake up mornings.
I never said
it would be easy,
especially on a satellite romantic,
just simple like stains and love and lost nights.