You can’t subject the bagels to
scientific inquiry - my
reasons for loving, neither.
My logic for my headaches is grey as my Atlantic sky,
my logic for my heartbreaks is blue as my Atlantic blood,
not 100% accurate, but

You can keep your twiddly, be-ribboned Mozart!
I’ll saw the head off a Wagnerian thunder god to play
a little Monsieur Croomb, Echoes of Autumn or songs about whales -
disreputable spectacles through my inch-thick lenses
not 100% accurate, but
pretty

I met my ginger doppelgänger
down a dead-end street in Montreal.
We traded glances, unspoken approval,
the knowledge that where the galleries are amazing,
the sad times are shit
not 100% accurate, but
pretty damned

I’m eating edamame and
emailing a time traveller from the 1920’s,
cursing in wingdings, watching from the margins.
This isn’t any kind of rebellion,
this is me, learning how to be happy;
not 100% accurate, but
pretty damned good.