"hard-on rocks and playground scars"
this is three years of concrete language sprawled against
some abstract bridge of h-h-h-hard-on rock and black ice curls
laid against your head
laid against another playground scar on my left knee.
three hundred days ago I asked you if you were real,
and then I cut your concrete ribs open and asked if before we met
there was something planted there (in the abstract) planted in Ė
whether or not my wiped-out skin had anything to do with you, planted in Ė
whether or not underneath our loverís bridge
my concrete, concave could lay you down.
straddling the concrete, Iíll lay these playground knees against yours.