I’m giving you this
so you’ll need to keep it hidden
in the silver box with
your sweet green snakes
and better than Stereolab discs.
You thought I ate that sandwich—
I hate that sandwich! All
your loads of alkaloid,
your lemon pistols, and your endless
frisking of the litigants, it’s like putting
soap in a muffin tin and calling
that home. My love for you
has subsided but not in any
particular way, just out of bounds
near the collar, by a crime scene
made soft by heat and guilt.