gold star kid

when I met you I was manic

and I told you just as much

you may have grinned

and then leaned in

started playin double-dutch.

my frenzied teeth betrayed my height

maybe high enough to get you out

of your low, of your pit, of your dark,

of your drought.

so you gripped what you could reach

and started climbing up my thigh:

maybe get you close enough

for a contact high.

you whispered in my ear just five words

an unimaginative line,

unoriginal techniques

but it must’ve worked just fine.

my feet didn’t touch ground for 13 weeks

floated through brooklyn like a fool

hanging on your every touch

your goddamn kisses must have packed a punch

so i let you ride my high

let you borrow all my joy

nothing quite like being someone’s

favorite new toy.

but soon you helped gravity do it’s thing

you pulled me down to earth

you left me in that pit,

a place damp and dark to sit.

it was a solid strategy, must admit.

so good job kid, you did it.

you deserve a pat on the back.

a gold star sticker for an excellent trade,

i’ll just be here while you enjoy your parade.