Love made of muck and leaves

Trampled down the stairs

By thousands of tourists

Here but not home

All creepy and needy

Grasping and gasping

At a sense of anything

That might have the faint scent

Of anti-solitude or wine

A ribbon will do

A quick two or three

In a pinch

Will salt the rice

On the stove

It’s a hunger

We all know

And hate

And know

And hate

It’s a robe

We all know

And hate

And know