i know math i can factor five and ten
i can swear with a sweet tooth grin i can look away pointy arrows of your eyes i won’t flinch no i won’t be surprised at how this feeling sparks and courts an archipelago of sorts full of ships and confused ports, you left before the weekend i’ll be on the shore maybe a peninsula maybe something more i can look away to the distant early sky i won’t say a word you won’t hear a sigh i can swallow sea water just like it was milk i won’t grit my teeth i’ll be smooth as silk and if you lug that all around then i’ll be forced to stand my ground and i’ll be collared stuffed and crowned the emperor of weekends it must be a drag to be a sea-less hag and you’re wasted sour grapes and