vomistress.

and for the betterment of all Mankind, I walked/ran/raced through concrete and brick
centuries-old dirt and grime
people whose names were obviously in italics,
what an extraordinary-looking sundress,
until I came to the beginning of the end of the beginning doing laps around the fucking makeshift box hole that you call a cityscape
the curvature of her smile down the length of my rusted collarbone and back again
discarded antics
your words at me like the shelling of a small, cozy town from the harbor
and my estuary carries Intention to Functionality
shit girl, I can smell love in the kitchen
but he's using a microwave and your ingredients are expired
muttering false positives and carrying carrion
you're a bumper sticker
and the last line I replaced with this one because it was too honest

if you listen closely enough, you can hear the sounds of padlocks on the front door and a window shattering inside.