Damn you
for making me say and do
so many things
I would never have otherwise
said or done.
Like this.
I only bought this because
you seem to appreciate
the gesture of giving
a greeting card.
And I would rather oblige
than think of something better.
If I knew exactly what to say…
…then I sure as hell
wouldn’t be giving you
a greeting card.
Just wanted to let you know
that I was thinking about you.
Well, obviously.
(You’re probably
thinking to yourself.)
…why would I send you
this card if I wasn’t
thinking about you?…
…and what a stupid thing
to say in a card…
…and even stupider
to affect stupidity,
as if that’s funny…
Well fuck you then.
It’s nearly impossible
to find a greeting card for you.
Take that as a compliment.
When I bought this card,
I was feeling good
about our relationship.
But now that you’re reading it,
things might’ve changed.
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.
