Videotape

I'd like to write poetry in still-drying cement with you.

To spend a lazy Sunday not talking to you.

I know at some point I'm going to have to just come out with it. One of these days.

But until then, I'll continue with trying to make you laugh. It's the small pleasures.

It's such a naive little thing, this. At some point, it's going to realize that the world is not kind. And it's going to wilt and shrink and shy away. Because it's a lame metaphor.