Fried Bacon

The birds, the maggots, rats and squirrels
Live inside my lack.
I get it now. We’ve never kissed.
A scavenger, I crave your lips,
The way they twist a silent word.

Marriage is the one I use,
Albeit we will live apart,
Describing how when leaves clip off
And fall together in my faulty head.
Somehow my futon overflows.
I smile, drifting off. You’re there.

Fried bacon seems like overkill.
The pork alone is seeing you
Even for a second
Walking by.
I plan to die and think of you,
The happiest man you’ve never kissed.