You unforgiving bitch.
You unforgiving
stolid bitch.
I dote on you.
To no end.
I think
this is how you repay me and
I lose sight of the fact
that you can only
repay me in kind
to what I've asked,
but that makes you no less
a complete
bitch
whose envelope is thinner than
rice paper and one who laughs
when I say "how high" and you ask "jump now"
in an inside joke
between you
and the square inch pad of
the contact patch
between you
and our road
is the fact that
when all is said and done
I am the one
who wears the conversation.
