I struggle for breath under

Russian woolen army coats

that smell of suffocating cat piss.

Since you are an Olympic sniffer,

I will leave a window wide open

to evaporate the stink of scat.

Like a snake sheds his skin,

I will turn myself inside out

if it will please you.

I will scrub the streets you walk on,

and carry you as far as I can go.

When you are blue, I will do

my Charlie Chaplin dinner roll dance

if you will act like Cat Ballou

before I 23 skidoo.

I’ll have Zabar’s FedEx you kasha knishes,

new green pickles, Beluga salmon roe caviar

and a lifetime supply of Voortman’s cookies

to ease the sweetness of your diabetes mellitus.

If only you will cleave the glacial ice wall

that surrounds my lonely bones.