Let time destroys it all
Erotic love, buildings, URL's, etc...
All that is solid is already air:
Your friends, your family, your social network posts,
Your drinking and fuck buddies, and your Macbook air
Even Cavafy poems don't stand a chance
In the middle of this exchange

With this wound I thee wed
With sleep's music
With the clouds of the north
& its dim sum's sponge cakes
With the various emoticons
With the few blood clots 
& their nightish envelopes

Love has its mechanics:
Public parks, undressing, etc... 
Until the vows of apartness

Thanks for the curve ball 
Of language 
Love has its mechanics
  
Doubt, friendships, etc...
As when time kicks
To curse a tree

I am describing the outside
Not the embedded albatross
The soft boy will come
Airplanning in, to have a monster
To monster discussion
Only by fork and knife
To lick his hands
He jumps the curvature
Of boyhood

An archipelago with a Cartesian exit
A.k.a. the disappearance of lovers
Worn out from constructed subjectivities?
Here is a sneaker
To help you recuperate from mirrors
Poetry being water
And an accumulation of deisaesters
"Fuck the police" is mostly a love song
To no one in particular
But a future that will never come

This will hurt like brokenness
& for the teeth of the night
You are my adored ear
In a framework of of great marriages
Cellophane trickling for the proletariat 
Sure I will come early tomorrow
I get the first task of the day off
No need to stop the class struggle
You are waiting for yourselves
You are evading production 

The maximum surface area of the sea
And the favorite drowned
I am saving my lust for your skin
And imagine it turning into love
I need this mathematical rigor
From now on, measuring the world
In French phrases