ooh i like this one-

cupid’s call

cupid gulps down a bottle of beer; idle fat man
dead to the world and drowned
in bitter fermentation.

she pleads ‘hello’ from a nothingness that
demands
shape and form; 2 eyes;
mouth; nose; long hair that
cascades with the elegance of falling water,
bitter with reality-

familiar, sweet stranger who waits like
a prophecy, shaping a promise with her lips
that no prophet will deliver; fat man

waiting, like a wizened fetus for a delivery that
courts the scorn of light- and a slap on the buttocks.
juvenile hopes, driven like a bus by an old lady
to nowhere in particular,
a predilection for a passenger that stops more than a double- decker.

my heart ticks like a clock, staggering
under influence.
pass the bottle-