You are my intensive purpose,
My mood point,
Love in it of itself.
My alterior motive.
You are biting my time,
My escape goat,
You expand my dreams, flush them out,
And make me want to know your mother’s mating name.
I wish we lived together in a pre-Madonna era,
But we can chock it up to luck that we were born today;
We couldn’t be ex-patriots back then.
And even if we were, we would probably take
Those rot-iron fences for granite.
