Jessy Randall & Daniel M. Shapiro
Let's Have a Fight

I envy you more
than you envy me.
Let's have a fight,
the kind I can win.

You made jokes
that hurt my heart.
Your friend thinks
I'm cute,

hot as coffee
in the pot. I might
as well be dead
once I've cooled.

"Let you win" and
"Let you in" sound
the same to me,
but not to you.

You're too well-adjusted.
It's not fair. I'm mad.
Just yesterday you
gave me a present.

Gloves off, right?
Or maybe gloves on.
Which way is softer?
I mean harder?


Most of them straddle yellow lines,
thin ones you can cross but can't erase.
We decelerate, wooed by promises,
but the water isn't deep enough
to keep sunken treasures hidden.
The problem is too obvious,
a train without a station.
Your tattoo says "goodbye"
in skin-colored ink.
I'm picking up your signals,
lipstick notes on mirrors.
Our mismatched rhythms are equally loud.
They depend on what we're willing to risk
and never take us where we meant to go.
It's as if we're hunting, camouflaged,
always setting off another trap.