poem of the day 03.16.09

you’re so good to me

you’re so good to me
you don’t even know it
and here i am spending the afternoon
writing poems
and listening to the radio
as the cats try to kill each other
in the next room.
you’re so good to me
i’m trying not to drink too much
just a couple of scotches and waters
regular shots
not the big ones we do
not the after work ones.
you’re so good to me
i can’t even stand you some of the time
i want to eat your soul
i want to watch you sleep
and ingest your perfumed hair
baby, you’re so good to me
i want to make you dinner
i’ll balance the checkbook
you’re so good i’ll clean the toilet
and wipe away the stale piss
off the bathroom floor.
i’ll chase away the tremors
because you’re so good to me
i’ll lick your cunt for an hour
i’ll take down the trash
i’ll wash my cock twice
and even go over my face again.
baby, you make me want to shave
that’s just how good you are to me.
let’s fly to rome
to london
let’s go to france and get drunk
in a field in bordeaux
so you can be good to me
in a field in bordeaux.
sweetheart,
i don’t know where this is coming from.
usually i’m neglectful
usually i don’t put it out there
like that.
you didn’t even do anything special
today
except plug the phone in.
in fact, you left the living room
window open the whole day.
we could’ve been robbed.
but baby i don’t care
because you’re so good to me
that’s all i need.
and i guess i need time to speed
up too.
because it’s only 4:30
and i’ve got two hours before
you’re home
and my drink glass is almost empty
but you’re so good to me
you won’t care if you get home
and maybe i’m a little drunk
and the dishes aren’t done.