to write you this love poem
I had to wait in line
how hard
something like that
like a hundred years

broken in the rain
waiting the turn

That Mr. or Mrs. or Miss
poke his head out of the
window and say my name

so many dogs died around me
dogs that I loved with my soul
who loved me with their soul
that we were friends
nail meat
time killed them
dogs don't last as long as they should
and one, sometimes, lasts too long

to write to you on the margin of this napkin
a love poem
of the many love poems
that already tire the world
that the roots of the world already rot so many love poems
however
here I am, a hot day if there were any, and I sit naked
to write you this love poem

in front of me there were men and there were women
some of them held children in their arms
others held books
others simply had their hands clasped behind their backs
I had to wait almost a century
until they say my name
my home
my social status
my unemployment insurance

the world does not need a love poem to
do their pirouettes in space
a river does not need a love poem
a man on a bicycle does not need a love poem

a tree that shades an anthill
don't need a love poem

a woman who ponders about time and light does not
need a love poem

I don't need a love poem
you don't need a love poem

however
here I am, throwing the fat drop on my back,
toes
heat Bent,

to write you the love poem that we don't need/