i realized i’d fallen for you
was mid hypothetical day dream–
not roses, not paris in spring,
nothing sweet, no birds to sing
who do you want there with you?
who’s at your right hand?
not because you love them
because if you want to live
if they are the heart of your plan
maybe it’s not romantic, love–
the blood, the gore, the tears,
the post traumatic stress disorder
that never gets to be “post” for us,
but, god, you with a machete, dear
snuggle beneath our ratty tarp
and the evil beasts shuffling
i’ll be the getaway train
i’ll be the strain gauge, babe
and you know it better than most
got a rope, a first aid kit, a light
be one half of my double team
you go high and i’ll go low
the world goes out in a scream,
in my dreams, all forded streams,
barbed wire and canned beans