I’m straining
the vegetable stock of our love
on this conspicuous Wednesday I
have a one track mind fundamentally meant
to make you conjugate
all decadent & disgusting gusting you rose
my rose my rah rah sis boom bah I’m sautéing every text
you weren’t willing to give (lightly) grated paranoid joy not ready
to ask for anything (heavily) zested I forgot my synthetic
memory the red bottle bourgeoisie doesn’t know what it means to prepare a feast
from a pinch of salt & intuition alone
