Papercut on My Tongue

I'm reading Demyan's poem 
in fucking awe!
listening to Heaven by Talking Heads,
emailing Brian about his book. 

sending stickers
with notes to
go to hell,
and never ever
give up. 

no one has ever
bought me flowers,
or lain in my rhapsodic 
age rating. 

I wear a baseball cap all the time,
but I am all but gone. 

while Richie Boy is in Sacramento,
hiding behind a biscuit factory
with liquor,
and finding himself 
in front of a liquor store
with biscuit in hand. 

she is somewhere 
in Midtown Manhattan,
leftover love.