Forgive me if I laugh, too, Grand Ma’ma.
You are so set in your ways, yet so wrong.
Look at me, I’m all rib bone and lockjaw.
But I know eternity isn’t long
enough for all that crazy love offers.
So what if your lovers were all bastards?
They’re not here. It’s your ego that whispers
in your ear. I lost mine with my innards.
Ego says you’re too old, too gray, too set
in your ways for love. I died at fifteen.
Age is so meaningless. I’ve made you wet
and sweat and scream out words that are obscene.
Nostalgia is meaningless to the dead.
Come back. Without love this a deathbed.