I have lusted after you in my way, silver-sweet,

And in my dreams your substance is as verdigris

painting me sleepless and blue-veined and clutching at walls in the morning.

Your overheated thighs; your noxious and nickel-plated

dime-store passion de ton corps; how you bear it elevated

o'er brows like a child to whom all shining rings are crowns.

My heart beats so hard in my feet I cannot walk but syncopate

through air my steps have saturated with such filth

and splendor as is the substance of you; build

aspartame sand-castles,

my little prince,

and stir my heart in petty caffeine games.