even if you tried,
because I am clever coyote
mixed with a Manhattan
and a cockroach
climbing out the hotel window.
I'll send ya mail in March
with a tiny smooch
if your address is the same,
leave flowers by your door,
prove I am not out to get you,
but that I love you.
For the time being,
and being being time,
listening to Elliot Smith
and just complain to companies
that screw us all over
(this is supposed to be a funny poem).