You stole a bible from a hotel, and
I'm using it to make poetry. I suggest
that you sew your shoe back together.
(You tell me that you've been meaning
to, but never got around to it. I lend you
my sewing kit.)
You're lending me stories of expanding
consciousness without identity and I'm
doing my best to skirt your thin prejudices.
For once, I may be making some kind of
palpable progress. However, I fool myself
into thinking that I'm failing.
This is good for the both of us.
I can't get hurt again; I have to resist
handing you the only gun that can put
a hole in my heart.
You would use it correctly, and completely
by accident. I may even wrap my hand around
yours to help you pull the trigger.
Safety first, and then teamwork.