Cassie's poems don't look right
in my handwriting, he said,
but your class killed our printer.
She had a drawer you never saw.

I've been off dope six months now
and am trying to get the kids back
from her parents, who are
the worst sons of bitches on earth.

That's my boss texting me again.
Today, can you believe it, I threw out
the purple scissors that on nights
we hoped to make love high

she used to trim her pubic hair.