Ice Fishing on Thin Ice

Too many things in life go unsaid,
they should
a careless overstatement
a profession, a confession, drunken
endured in ashamed tolerance
because when a man ejaculates
slurred emotion in a spittle spray of,
“I’m really, really glad to have you as a friend,
really. You know? Really glad,” it is distinctly indelicate
to the anti-diplomatic extreme
to cork off his outpouring
telling him to just shut the fuck up already
and that you don’t care;
it doesn’t need saying;
you are well aware of the mutual benefits
a friendship establishes,
and it’s already gone as far as it’s going
so please stop trying to whither my panties
in your toxic haze of kerosene breath
because we are not going to fuck now or ever, capisce?
so please, just don’t tell me…
if I don’t know
I don’t want to
ignorance of subjective states suits me better
than the warmth inside the ice fisherman’s shack

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