or
I’m the guy You’re writing poems about
I lay you down on your bed
As I enter you the lights in your eyes go out.
My penis stabs you over and over,
a metaphorical knife in your allegorical back
30 seconds later I withdraw
Spilling my seed on your teddy bear
the one you’ve cherished since you were 3
tossing a crumpled sawbuck at you
I promise to call
but you know better
you know boys are made of lies and gunpowder and bits of pirate ships
and you know I’ll never ring your bell
on the way out I steal a bottle of Johnny Walker from your father
and get drunk at the train tracks with my friends
we high five as you lament the loss of your innocence
Not now, but soon you’ll be
at the store buying a black paged notebook and
pink gel pen
and you’ll go home knowing that
today you became more than a woman
you became a poet