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It is an odd Saturday spent, my love,
Reading my collection of warning labels
As sophisticated prose
The literature
Of a legalese era
I let the theater go on without me
Forsaking spring showers and autographs
The fire marshal would only let in a few more, you see
So I found my way back to my moldy museum
Reading the small print over again
I sit, curled against the heater,
Anticipating another day of rain
While pondering the motifs that run rampant
Across the manuscripts of Crest Toothpaste
Peevishly—perversely, even—minty fresh
Or possibly a box of Benadryl:
Keep out of reach of children
Lest they grow up too fast
And inherit a collection of warning labels
From parents who tired, at last, of the downpour
Here is my religious text
Scrawled in the typing of a corporate nobody
Do not ingest
Just let it slip your mind, my love
The taste of once upon a time, and adhesive autumn days
We argued, once
Over whether to adapt a Shakespearean moment
Caught on the fly between Juliet and her Romeo
A comment on consumerism
And the warnings of idiots in Times New Roman, 4-point font
Perhaps to modernize our academic egos
Find a dusty rationalization
For our superiority
In being able to name our disease
And forswear all accountability
You know it ended
In a reconsideration of prescription medications
We were not so crazy, my love
Just less than cautious
About taking heed of drones and lawyers
So I, hiding from the window,
Ask that you keep it closed
Be careful
Do not expose to an open flame
Because tomorrow it will only rain again
And there’s no point blowing anything up;
I am meticulously
Looking the other way, my love
Because on Sunday the torrent will be back
And I will not be held liable
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