We find creaks in the floor, dirty dishes
just so you can wash, and I can dry. Don’t
need blankets, we set the sheets on fire.
Light the night with animal eyes. Chain
the door and polish the tiles. We drive
like spacemen, expose virgin film, tar
and feather the poor, poor cats. We give
concerts; I play the typewriter and you
snore in harmony. I brush my teeth
with dandruff shampoo, you hand feed
the goldfish. I dance to songs that make
you cry. You only respond when I call you
Wolfy. We should retire and become ghosts.
