EAU SAVAGE, for FAYE (MAY, 2013)

My Eau Savage is on its way!

Today it is in Anaheim, tomorrow 

it will be on a truck, covered in wrap,

cardboard, brown tape, postage stamps

and handwriting. Beneath all of that will be

Eau Savage in a rippling bottle, lightly tinted

green. It will smell like limes! And basil and cumin 

and orris rosemary amber! Once I gave a girl named Mary

a rose, it’s true. But today I want to give a girl named Faye 

a sweeter smelling me. Eau Savage! I say. But I must wait 

for Anaheim: for its cardboard and brown tape, its postage 

stamps and handwriting, its truck driver who eats potatoes,

curses for free who will walk to my door in brown shoes and 

smells like rosemary and naturally, brown shoes. I must wait. 

I must wait for days. I waited for years to fall in love. Why do

I hate waiting for days? You understand, don’t you? Even if you 

do, if I must say, then you must listen to me wait, please do.