So, I was writing this poem while taking trains and buses all around Chicago, running errands and I was standing in the Post Office prepping packages when I figured out the ending and I had to grab the chained down pen and write "naked, ice cream" on my hand. I hope the lady behind me in line was confused, frightened, excited...what have you. 22/30 On Purpose for RQT Lets have casual sex. I will talk about the weather. You can leave your socks on and we won’t even turn off the light. That way we can critique one another fairly. With a critical eye. Like you would an exhibit at the science museum—like a diagram in How Things Work and I will point out my flaws like they were brush strokes. These stretch marks may have gone unnoticed if the lights were off, if Barry Manilow had been on. And after I make these observations you will use some great cliché line like No, baby you are beautiful , (suggesting that my speaking brush stroke facts negates beauty). And after you...
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