this loving is
ripe and fruitful,
caressed in the
crook of my elbow,
knee pads begged
to be worn for the
first encounters.
trivia, on the first date!
politics paused in
between syllables,
sneaked into the
conversation
through the back
door and
sat inside of my
water glass.
weeds, with
enduring a
short
companionship,
cat calls the
cab driver, leaving
the airport.
“AY SWEET PAPI
WHAT’S IN THOSE
PANTS CHULO.”
where weeds
grow in between
my hairy knuckles
because a beast
grown out of anger
becomes sincere.
because a beast
blown into
newspaper
clippings,
rewarding his
exploitation,
finds comfort
within mattresses
that have SCREAMED
“do me.”
because a BEAST
grown out of pity
has lost his own
empathy, compassion,

fervor, individuality.
because a beast grown
out of hardship will nurture
a fruitful and ripe
love for the entirety of
his life, trivialized or not,
that beast welcomes
obscurities, obscenity
and flowers
with frayed ends.
the sunflowers that
cough unwanted
seeds, fertilized
through unwarranted
trauma.
if singularity
was rewarded,
this beast would
chain his
wrist to the
fingers of
activism and
organize campaigns
that go against the
Man from Tuscan.
“to further
increase voter
revenue, the
beast is
proposing
a change in
school lunch;
whale
blubber and
lady fingers.”
to which was
responded to with
“lady
fingers? what are we?
the Clintons?”