you could have cut this with your surroundings & felt
real things, maybe the abandoned train stop imprint
on your roof a freak accident of the lamp’s angle poise
or the spider web gulag around your back shed
or some bed sheets as curtains & a poster for a film
no-one else loves each real thing numbered
because the title was to be the girl’s i’ve really fallen for
who wore glasses like, really needed them to see
& see it would itself fall naturally into three stanzas, each
with a different pace, a different line-fade:
deliberate, messy, or open-ended
none of you with a father i can picture
soo all three are Luke Perry, the at-time-of-writing
Luke Perry he who has the acting skills to pull the role off
furrowing his brow as he considers optometrist expenses
listed on a paper bill, then raising his eyes over the paper
bill to consider this bf on the threshold
i mean he is unimpressed yet steeled & ready
a denim shirt
um there is just the song of birds instead
& volume of poems on rec we are the latest cartoon
adaptation not faithful to the source text ugh
i cannot see anything so throw on my jughead crown
plan an abrupt ending & effect a jaunt
