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grapefruits.
Love is when I ask you where you are in the morning
and you reply from the kitchen that you are making something I am patient, I am aching and while I'm baking in a ray of spring sun I wonder if we're faking this love, this crescent moon, this staking of territory wherein I know where you are and you know me as well and I know that Someday you are going to barbecue my heart, well I will fry yours in a vat of hot blubber lover, loved one, please be my projection If love is anything at all, it is just a selection Love is a urinary tract infection, yeah, you know You prove that you know me, you put work in affection You hear my inflection, my culinary predilections And after ten minutes you return to our sheets With a plate of perfection: You've cut my grapefruit into sections. Why You Can't Find Love on a Television Show
It grows best in the quiet times when there are
No cameras, no prying eyes, no people there to watch it It grows in the slow breaths and the long silences of a car ride In the short distance between his massive shoulder and my happy one Real love can't easily be faked or dramatized on a plasma screen because It is complex, perfect, flawed, difficult and most of all It hurts like drinking thumbtacks Real love takes five minutes and weeks and months and years to become It knows the story behind the scars on your calves, Your greatest fear, and what you looked liked at seven and three quarters True love is not, cannot be, won't survive in A contest It’s what happens when you let go of precedents and expectations and reveal all of yourself, privately and wholly to another soul Save TV shows for design contests and cook offs If we let love live, let's let love live alone  Shacking Up
So here’s what I was thinking: How about you and me Clamber into a half-timbered house and put our books in perfect stacks and we’ll have no more hangups or hangovers; no, we’ll hang out quite happily! And let’s be quick about it; I’m hankering for it to happen, see, You’re the happy-go-lucky type and I’m the harlequin with the harebrained ideas, and I’m tired of your hard-headed hardballing. What say we seal this hesitancy with Hobson’s choice? |
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