me with exact abstractions.
me how, although we’re sure we feel its
and its call, there isn’t anything at all.
why blueberries get into pies.
the nature of erection in the penis
the geodesic dome. Surprise
with an untoward unfamiliar sense of home
I might fathom how to love it as you love it.
me what’s beneath it and above it:
it smells like, how it tastes.
me why the soul is made of foam.
the way, for you, sweat bastes,
doesn’t baste, desire. Tell me
what you require. Perhaps we’ll coincide,
decide to ride together on the next outgoing tide.