Pocket Lint Paraphernalia

I am a socket

and you are
my
conduit,

(electricity
always
had
a funny way of
talking, didn’t it?)

A fork that
said fuck
the facts and stuck
its pretty
prongs in
the last place she
belonged.

Tonight we’ll make
fireworks the
only thing
in the world
that works
in any
situation.

Like the pipe and
the pocket
lint that’s
eventually swept
up in it
if they
share real
estate long enough.

You and I are the sweat
pants high
just a lovely, short-lived
light
someone was
stupid enough
to stick their
silverware in.

But that might be romantic
enough to some.

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