oh sethy-poo, how i miss you
in your cigarette-skinny slacks
and moroseness masking something else.
your dark shock of hair, that pale, pensive mouth
like a neil gaiman sketch-of-a-joke
on the robots thronging rodeo drive
your blood-red heart dripping water
within a charcoal ribcage
i hope you wring it out to dry on your drums.
