The kid gloves come off like

clothing

and my god,

what a strange hotel room with strange people

– strangers – 

and maybe they weren’t all that strange 

but so ordinary

normal

boring

military.

 

No use for gloves

wraps

tape

or anything to soften blows

always did blow at softening my words

anyhow,

and now there is that pain again

-anger flushes the face and leaves righteousness

made holy by sheer emotion

and nothing could be more divine/exciting.

 

Was I ever loved as a poet,

did you love me for my poetry?

double-edged problem,

the love doesn’t quite turn the engine like hate

and you do hate me

because I know.