A junky wrapped his arms around me.
That wasn’t strange, he is a friend
and I asked him for a hug.
But then he said in an honest
voice: Don’t worry, everything
will be alright.

I’ve called you at least ten times.
Not once have you returned my calls.
Stunning, this river of friendship.

I woke up in the middle of a dream
where I was baking a bluebird pie just for you.
When it was done I cut it open; ten bluebirds
flew out. You’re not good enough for me.

Platonic is for the birds.
Today my flesh wants to crawl
all over, dance on your skin,
fuck until we are wasted.