These are pleasantries, yes, sweetness.
They’re okay for those good enough,
at least decent good enough get-offs,
but the myriad pet names, clever and otherwise,
cutesy, dumb, or ‘quaint and curious’—
the treble in your voice, turn it down.
I know we met on a kind of down-
beat sorta day, when that sweetness
drifting from a baker-mom’s curious
son’s steamed wet window was about enough
to keep a one afloat—a really off
day. I would’a probably caved otherwise.
I would have had to get all melty-melty otherwise.
These tendencies I keep tucked way down
in my insides’ (button fly) jeans’ 5th pocket boil up,
and off
I go! Just hang on a second, sweetness.
The getting goes tough then soon enough
the toughies go to getting gone. Curious
about all these “I miss you’s.” A little curious.
Just a taste. Pencil tip on a tongue and, otherwise
healthy, just mentally gonzo, I guess. Enough
“I need to see you’s,” too. Deeply down
there somewhere there’s a certain sweetness,
maybe, but I just don’t see it. So I’m off.
I’ve thrown on some Donovan, so fuck off
for a track. (pause) Okay, so back to that curious
way we/you/I/he/they could squeeze the sweetness
from a kitty kat. I’ll go, I mean, otherwise
I’ll stay. It’s a whatever kind of down,
down, down, down day. I think it’s broken.
No, hang on—"enough, enough, enough." I went off.
I’m sorry. It’s this letdown ending part, all curious
and crushed up, but otherwise touched. (signed)
Sweetness.