It’s nearly impossible
to find a greeting card for you.
Take that as a compliment.
Not to sound like
you’re going to die soon
or anything, but
I’m really glad
I’ve had the chance
to get to know you.
And if you are
going to die soon,
I’m really sorry.
I could never imagine myself
buying cards like this.
Then a funny thing happened.
I met you.
You’re one of those people
who’s only pretty because
you’re almost …
…you come so close to being
completely repulsive
that the sense of danger
in teetering on that brink
gives your look an excitement
that’s somehow attractive,
like if a butterfly had flapped
its wings somewhere
the moment you were born,
everything might’ve been different
enough to make manifest
your face’s latent hideousness.
Know what I mean?
The other morning
I had an itch
in the back of my throat
and when I scratched it
the only way you can
those deep-down ones,
with muscle contractions
at the base of my tongue,
for a moment there…
…I tasted you.
If you were the last person on
Earth, that would mean
I’d be dead, and you’d have
a stupid greeting card
to remember me by.
If something like true love
existed,
would you really expect it
to fit into a card?
