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by angelo nikolopoulos  from obscenely yours

but i’m logistically opposed to love.

        all day the homunculus

        of desire pulses.

        my stranger.

        my shared interest.

            if i’m a candidate, then so are you.

from its hood

our happenstance moans and moves.

            i’m tired of being my own saint

            sebastian of missed connections.

        garden of eden tonight,

        deli counter. blue sweatpants.

a picnic to ourselves-

that’s the idea, isn’t it?

        (see women in love)

            frantic and beautiful.

            the lovers drowning in the lake.