We’ll leave the goddamn ruins behind
Don’t take a massacre vow of celibacy
Along clinical lines,
your nipples sticking through a wet sweatshirt
It was the first bite of our own totem animal.
We can atone for pyrric victory,
geisha world encoding our skin
so that we can reach through
the sexual deities
of see you in our beautiful bed,
television in on ourselves with the god-light
groundbreaking to mass access.
You realize that I haven’t had
a little square for us
since we juiced it up,
since I can call you mister,
young angel,
mind sister deputy?