Stop looking like a New Yorker.
How could a New Yorker
kill birds so painstakingly
You slink towards me like a scorned lover
returning after a night in a motel
“You’re going to pay for this.”
I love you
for lounging like a woman with nothing better to do
You share my bed, a selfish husband, taking up all the space
and snoring the whole night through,
but I can’t sleep without you.