I’m sending out a pamphlet for my love
with the caption “This Could Be Us”.
The image on the front page fucks,
Devil and Angel do a foxtrot in a shadowbox.

Flattened face of an owl perched to prey
right on page three, trapped in 2D.
My skeleton, electric—
sharper than an egg and more eccentric.

I’m shooting out a beacon of my love.
My need is the ball, you’re all basket.
I gauge the distance—
my beak is a lance, your heart is my chance.

I’m sending out a brochure for my love,
hoping I’m enough, hoping I’m enough.
I’m sending out a pamphlet for my love,
please y’all someone open it up.

I’m signaling a beacon of my love,
I swear, I swear this could be us.
On call, I’m softer than a pinball,
won’t someone come over or at least call.

I’m blanketing a pamphlet for my love.
Someone pick it up, pick it up.
I’m sending out a pamphlet for my love,
hoping I’m enough, am I enough?