I slept in the middle of the bed last night,
for the first time in two years,
since I left you.
Yesterday, I saw a couple hold hands while I sang, “take my hand, live while you can”
and a buzzy bug tease me at, “I wonder, when I sing along with you…”
It had me at eye wonder.
My worth is in under my ownership now, and
my sex is under construction,
my gaze intent,
I am the oyster not falling for the tricks of the Walrus.
It does not serve me anymore, not to be picky.
This is my graduation from certain mistakes,
a plea for distance from casual,
from the memory of you on your haunches,
only concerned with your pleasure.