You are a poet, I read it in the way The mess you make is tender like your syllables arranged I am an idiot, I dressed you up in idioms Like that's the end of it, our eyes turned from the page And the summer came Manhattan June, we're playing Halloween Both my arms are lobster claws and all your skin is green I fled red handed from the shop after that scene Subways underfoot, the earth was pregnant with machine In a summer's dream Solstice time, I was slumped up on a stoop Punch drunk and stupid shedding saltwater for you I met a stranger whose middle name was Zeus And their dog, Pablo Neruda, they were both pretty damn cute Oh, but I still think you're cuter after all that we've been through