Light Bulb Deliverance

Pillow fights and Thumb Wars. Like Helllo!



I don't know how to be Romantic....
but

if you were the solution to the energy crisis
Id grab your solar panel ass
and slide my rough hand
between your legs
to flip your economy friendly heater on
I'd kiss your white hot, light bulb lips
to seduce you,
and let the eastern seaboard sink into
a century long power outage

....because you move me


If you were the worst techno music ever
Id have the best dance moves on the floor
and you wouldn't have to be ashamed of me anymore
because you'd crack up for a decade
before robo-rocking your hips
to the rythm of cocaine overdose keyboards
after all,
....its just me and you

....and 4 other dudes
on the dance floor

If you were the moon
Id be an army of nerds
sitting behind NASA desks
pumping out math equations
to get to you

we'd search for the the right trajectory
and never worry about the reverse
because breaking apart in the stratosphere
is fine.


we'd make heavy breathing nerd sounds
and speak in nerd
which isnt so much numbers and star wars
as it is
just rare passion

and maybe you'd forgive us
after we mapped you out
as the only thing in the sky


Id stay up late
and turn off the house lights
to peer through a telescope
at you
and wait for you to turn the lights back on


You want to know if you're a something? Or a nothing?
But I dont know how to be romantic....

All I know....is

If you were a war machine wet dream
You'd be the photgraphs inside my helmet
and the cool aluminum dog-tags in the heat
that I carried on every patrol

You'd have your rolling thunder tank breasts
pressed against the top of my head
with your thick landmine thighs
wrapped around my neck

Id suffocate under your
flamethrower kisses
and get ripped apart by
and your teenage orgasm grenades

my face would dissapear
from shotgun lipstick smears
and you're rusty bayonet fingers
would crack my ribs

but I'd wait for your second charge


If you were an atomic bomb
Id handle you with extreme care
but if youe exploded
Id catch all your tiny peices
and wait out the cloud of dust and
vaporized cities
to squeeze you in my palms
and rebuild you under extreme pressure

If you were a drunk
Id be your whiskey
and Id change the calendars
so every day was a good drinking Holiday
and we'd parade around New York Square
in perpetual St. Patty's sillyness
and you'd drink 9 of me, and
spill the tenth down your shirt
And Id say in a Deniro accent
"You lookin at me!?"
every time you opened your eyes
when you drank me
(because Id imagine it was a kiss)
Eventually youd set me on the curb
and crawl to that fire hyrdant

and judo chop its face off
because we both know,
that fire hyrdant,
was staring


If you were a flower for halloween
Id be a bee
in a giant sweaty suit
made of dead dogs and cardboard
Id throw rocks at your window
till you woke from your candy coma
so I could spill my love saturated guts out

You'd sigh and ask me to be romantic...
Id stand in the yard
and tell you....
"Your breasts are like........pillows."
And you'd sigh harder

and then I'd lay the real shit on you
"Can I fluff you pillows?"

I know.
I know.
Total Ladykiller.

Id make
the loudest buzzing sound youd ever heard
BZZZZZZZZZZ
and spread my arms like a bird
And buzz into the streets
before you
could say

Double You

Tea

Eff

Dearest,
I dont know how to be romantic. I dont know how to make you sigh.
I dont know poetry or how to dance. I dont know how to build space shuttles,
or survive atom bomb blasts...
But...

If you were deaf
Id be your silent movie
and I'd talk to you with clumsy hands
to tell you I loved you.
Id sign to you,
about the great electric sound in your chest

because in that cavity there's a movie
that crackles and shines
like the old black and white ones
from the fifties
about the war and the future and love

but eventually, i'd have to stop signing
So I could press down on your skin above your breasts
so lights will shine through your ribs
and sound will swell out of your throat
because the war and the future and love
are all still inside you

if you were blind
Id kiss you the way sailors kiss their girls
like you were a lighthouse
that I'd been flailing my limbs for years
to get to

And that kiss would tell you alot
and Id see a jazz concert in your eyes
because you're not a something.
Or a nothing.

You're an everything.

I dont know how to be romantic.
but....

Im going to take a piss and when I come back we'll talk about the Mighty Duck movies