Michael

16

cold toilets are cold toilets

cold toilets are cold toilets
with their lids up, Siberia. one day
I lift it,
seeing you waving. slam it
like a million dollar bill

I feel sometimes
to wipe the piss off. not for your sake,
for humanity’s--
Paris would be whorehouses
if scooters
skipped the pedestrian thing

the waiter there was hot,
it made me mentally sad. not that
he looked like you
(he was Italian with yellow eyes and a piercing on the lower right lip)

he recommended pistachio
with chocolate-flavored vanilla,
but I got berry cheesecake
with substitute

and one berry exactly

the empty plate mirrored my face
I turned to spill
some of yours