Phone Me in Care of the Blues, Pam Brown
phone me in care of the blues.
all this talk of how it could be.
sometimes my cunt is throbbing
like a bass guitar.
you get the people worried for you.
you slip their hearts a song.
then you take them in.
it is your skin which takes them in.
they cling to you like wet cotton clings.
you phone me from six hundred miles.
oh you mean to say you’re lonely now.
sure. i’ll wait at the tarmac.
sure. i’ll lunch with you.
sure. i’ve made this handgrenade sandwich
(Source: poetrylibrary.edu.au)
