Day sixty-three

To my future love

I am an awkward person, the same
as the feeling you get when you
forget an old friend's name. I
don't snore, but I'm told I talk
in the middle of the night when
things grow quiet, when the crickets
stop singing. I like crude humor
the kind that make little school boys
giggle on the playground-- typical
dick and fart jokes. I have delusions
of grandeur and sometimes think my poems
can move mountains, that poetry will
save the world one day. When I experience
something new, I know if I like it or not
almost immediately. I will like the sound
of your voice, so keep talking. Your parents
will think I'm a nice young man, but you
know the truth. I like astrology and I
want to believe in ghosts. I am perfect
for you, but not perfect at all. I'm clumsy
and will break something of yours, or trip
and fall in front of you. I might make
you cry one day, and I apologize for that
right now, it will probably be an insensitive
remark. I like watching films at the run
down dollar theater, the floor sticky
and the chairs falling apart. I don't
watch sports and I have no interest,
save for some Olympic ones. I love to read
and I love talking to you.

15:17