Don't me ask for the details. They're ugly
And choked.
Make, instead, grand glossy sweeping guestures with your hands
Knocking things over and laughing through the pricelessness
Of glittering glass. Every boy is inadequate.
Every man is a murderer.
I can't talk to you when you're like this;
Every thing you do is pornographic.

You know, I acted out, in the hall, the entire scene. I played your part too,
I said your lines: I forgave myself.
In low tones I did it over and over, facing the wall
Facing the sink, facing her in the mirror
And watching her mouth talk--it was the worst
Because I could feel your mouth wrapping
Around the lines--
I should have written them down and sent them to Los Angeles--

And I couldn't say them the way you would have.
You're a butcher and you're bad at it,
I can always tell when someone's not cut out for killing.
You should have been an actor
You should wear a ten gallon hat, you should wear a bandana--
That'll get you in the mood
For a showdown at high noon. As it is, when you're happy
You wear white. It's a bridal colour.