With someone who holds nothing but trumps, it is impossible to play cards.
--Hebbel

I told her she had demons blood

and it made her want me more
even by telephone, I could tell
even without bacon
even with a college hangover

stars in the heart and head
and buns in someone else’s oven
her eyes still fucked mine to the wall
even by telephone
even by poety
even without music
though music helped stoke our blaze

wishes beyond the words
wanting so badly to share myself with someone
but selfish
even by telephone
even without orange juice
even through venetian blinds
even earlier than we wanted it to be

but we poured into each other anyway
that night by the fire
holding each others sweat in pockets
hidden away in our tapestry of flesh
eyes aglow
even by telephone I remember
even without time
even now, with everything and nothing
and scratch all to do with it but build

in the morning the smell of bacon
will remind me of her again
as it always does
even after college
fucking
selfish
oven
done.