I should have known that
You were so one for me
While I'm only one for you.

 
From your honest reports
Of Jim and flirty retorts,

From your shorty-short shorts
To the tip of your noggin,
And your form I thirsted
For like a desert flagon,
I should have known that
You'd open my hearts
Like a box of See's candies,
Eating the cremes, the caramels
And leaving me nuts.

From the way you made me, struts,
Until you made me wait for the barest hints
Of your continued unholy sacred existence,

From the dreamscape of your touch
(Sacroiliac to sacroiliac) such
That I perceived only sparest glints:
A village of silhouettes who haunts

This vacillating skepticism--vacuous,
This ambiguity who knowingly taunts,
From the way you made me love much,
Shapeshifting from house to pub,
Listen, Bub! you somehow saw to my wants
And moved on; we were penultimates.