Oh, should I?
Take part in the wailing obstreperous
clamor for “true love” that never
knew Love. I am enraged
on behalf of every flat-footed, square-
headed boy I will never consider
If my soul is a body, consider
the skin of my jaw and my head peeled off.
If my heart is my heart,
my chest is beating,
like when the universe banged into being,
only the opposite.
What do these have to do with each other?
They are united by nothing
but common rage,
the near-righteous anger of hopelessly