There’s this one girl? She knows I’m me. Every day, she arrives sits waits, grins and recognizes and how was your day? Ruffled? Murderous? Ravenous? she jabs, the kinda sick joke I hate to love her for. Wanna peck her eyes out over.
Chase her from my cemetery, cheerfully, trap her soul with one swoop, show her who’s who, though she knows, yeah. She remembers me. Impressed with my grace and majesty. I am no urchin caw, one of those mangy rodents or lame-ass fucking deer, naw, she’s begging me to beg her.
I just stand and stare. And she hands over her lunch.