I love you
like the girl stuffing her mouth with
black magnetic tape
torn from old The Cure cassettes
loves the taste of Robert Smith
telling her she makes him feel
young again.

I love you
like the tax lawyer sucking on
tart pomegranate seeds
loves how their sharp, calloused hands
knead and pinch the
knotted muscles at the nape
of his neck.

I love you
like the hospital janitor sniffing
caustic cleaning fluids
straight from their bottles
loves the private, intimate concert
Mozart plays for him
every night.

I love you
in the most futile
confused ways.

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