Gentle, Everybody

But this feels, like, really good. Like if God thumbtacked me to
the crown of a mountain and said, Say one thing, this is it right
here. I’d scream the box out my voice. The gus out your esopha.
I’d lie to you just to tell you the truth. Michael Jordan had 104-
degree flu and still made John Stockton look like your uncle in the
backyard on a nine-foot hoop with a small ball. Exit sign’s right
over there. It looks like a grenade. And that pin in your hand,
that’s the actual pin. I’m too loose now. My arms are straight out
like a poet who sounds like a different poet. I’ll send you and call
you back in the same line. I’ll ban smoke in your poems then
invite Michael Jordan, and he’ll show. You won’t have anyone
to blame but the mirror. Don’t bother looking for me. The sign on
this door says, Disturb. It says, Amaze. It says, Be amazing. My
whole body’s inside akimbo. Ready to make mistakes. To stay.
I made you spaghetti. Pretty sure we’re the sauce. So, it’s just
me and you, baby. It’s just me and you.