Every Day is Marne Gras

To A Friend

When I am at work
and I am staring off into a case of food service pastries or
when I am restocking backstock, stacking cases of bowl appetite noodles
and reduced fat wheat thins
I like thinking about you
you riding your bike in the morning sun
pedaling until the world around you is gold and warm and so perfect that you can’t stop laughing
so you have to dismount and lie in the grass in the name of divine worship.

When I am pouring lattes
I like thinking about your arms
and how you laughed when I called them expansive
and fell back asleep,
with my nose pressed in the pillow of your left under arm.
you have no idea how you hold me.

My boss says marne what are you smiling about
but I like thinking about us fucking
in some queer kinky post-punk quiet riot backasswards kind of position.
I like thinking about the way you get up from my bed
to pee in my toilet because you are so committed to staying well-hydrated
even if it means we can’t go at it for more than twenty minutes
without one of us getting up to pee.

When I punch out and ride the metro bus home
I like thinking about standing in my kitchen and waiting for your knock
your face, you might be wearing face paint,
i’ll ask why are you wearing face paint
I rode my bike, you’ll say, I needed war paint for the cars