I am
looking at you

through a dark screen through your glasses through this Borges lecture you wanted me to hear
it’s 4 in the morning
you suggest we go on a walk
but I’m a pussy about the cold
even with your socks on.
“isn’t it raining?”
(forever mentioning rain! it
passes through me always,
as down porch awnings
on saturday mornings.)
but not rain,
just the washing machine.

I want you to want to be a man for me
to know you could handle me
throw me around if you tried

you won’t believe how small I can get.