I think that’s how they call it.
You start off, a bubble in my stomach:
of hot air, new books, old movies and my
new body cream,- pamplemousse rhubarbe,
grapefruit and rhubarb, sharp like Quebec French.
And very impatient.
Like the Chips Ahoy!
cookies on my shelf, I know
exactly where you are. Against the wall? In
a plastic bag? 4cm from my toothbrush… Sitting with
your fudgy weight.
NET WT 11.75OZ. 80 CALORIES.
1.5G SAT FAT. 40mg SODIUM. 6g
SUGARS. SUGARS. I thought you were. But
before I can grab
a pen, you seem to turn into one. A ball pen,
clicks on my heart without stop without stop
without stop. Pumps my blood too quick.
A Mont Blanc, keeps knocking on
my head keeps knocking keeps knocking.
Thud thud thud thud.
I run towards my desk. But
like a needle through a thread,
right through me.
Now I need to try
to grab you by your tail, because
are the poem I planned to write.