The Pit

The brain on tap
sure tastes delicious.
I am in the market
for a new dialogue.

I suppose I always have
been my best lover. Still,
we can practice the art

of interpretive silence,
our first impressions
strapped to rockets launching
fireworks into everywhere.

If you’re going to feel
some way, then feel away.
There is no need to offer

up what’s dear for nothing.
Recite no more explanations
of awkward perspectives,

please. Simply reenact the movie
scribbled over my eyeballs—and as we
embrace brains

read me close your stellar
synapses forward and backward
till I know them as well

as I know my own.
Hold your head steady now.
Get ready for home.