You Hate, Maybe

You hate, maybe, that I always give
The name Bigfoot at Starbucks, but today
Is special: Emma is getting her ears pierced
And she’s actually sitting longer than five minutes

Reading “Invisible Emmie” while we
Take pictures of each other to send
Back and forth, when suddenly I think
Potato Face or Celery Stalker would be

Great alternate names to give next time
Of course Rose Petal would sound pretty or metal
What about Little Red Riding Hood or Wolf Breath
Instead of Death Crisis or you Bonnie and me Clyde

Look at me procrastinating in reading poetry
To write poetry; what’s wrong with me, seriously
At least I don’t have my guitar to do what I suggested
Set poems to music, since, let’s be honest, they’re cousins

I do love it when I ask you “Do you hate me?”
And you sharply respond “Always.”