a poem for bad kisses and bad kissers and the passionless pit that is the dating pool of New York City, which is funny because it is a city that is a cultural capital yet a k hole for any emotional intimacy in your twenties which I hate but love so much that my ass is forever glued to this tar pit rent raising cop infested hell hole I love you New York this is a love letter for you—you are like my ex: spending most of the time blocking my path but every once in a while making me feel like magic

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I once kissed a boy

outside a bar in SoHo

his hair reminded me of loose straw his lips reminded me

of flour tortillas and his personality reminded me of both

mid kiss and bored

I reached to touch

the back of his alabaster neck

when he screamed

then he flailed and flicked

A Roach Off His Fucking Neck

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