What do I look like, with my hair
in the middle, slick, and glasses
would you come over riding
an ice cream truck, careless, growing
big with milk fat, punching
new belt notches
with you, I’d embellish, do my hair bigger, wear
red lipstick, sloppily (I do not
own lipliner, I forgot these things)
then you could watch my TV and say
how strange I am, we’d force each other
up mornings, I’d stop napping and never drink
alone, maybe sometimes
into the couch, bag of
chips, bottle of wine, you
would flick channels and swat flies
with the Cosmo I bought at Safeway
only for the lipstick ads
(and the sex diagrams).
you don’t part you hair in the middle, instead you smile knowing
they are jealous of, among other things, your blue suede shoes
come over and show me your truck.
I am cross-legged. circulate the air.