*le swoon*

Reminded me of this poem:

Jeffrey McDaniel
"The Quiet World"

In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at the chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
and proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn't respond,
I know she's used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

Maybe because he also wrote this:

Jeffrey McDaniel
"Dear man whose marriage I wrecked"

If it's any consolation, when your wife took me
in her mouth, I closed my eyes and pretended

I was a piece of wedding cake. I was the instigator,
bringing her flowers so often her co-workers

nicknamed me carnation hands. At night, I'd look
at the stars and slither my petals through her hair.

It was like we were on Mars--me staring over
her skull at one moon, her gazing at another.

What I'm really trying to say is I tumbled into her
arms like a thousand reluctant dominoes.

I mean, isn't it odd--how you can buy a lap dance,
phone sex, or blowjob in a snap, but can't

pay a person a dollar to just sit next to you
on a park bench and simply hold your hand?