how do people survive
in the world of love
and conversation
i think it must be like 300 poems
written in 200 days
where art has become a performance
where i don't know what you think
and i am blinded by the pink and
green gels on the optics
where i want more and think
you are more than enough
where i already know
what the future is
but can't stop giving you
more poems to put in the hips
of your jeans
i suppose that is what people do
and i feel bad when i realize
i do too