groceries---12/10

I wrote this on the back of a test outline right after I was through with my women's lit final. I then had to hand it in to my professor, unbeknownst to me.
Oh snap.
Let me try to recreate it. Instead of studying for my french final, which I will inevitably fail.
-db.
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Groceries

Let's get green tea, babe.
I've been wanting your tongue to taste like lemon
even though it's cold outside.
Besides, it will help your throat, raw as blurry photographs.
I swear I saw old films flicker on your tonsils
(don't pretend I don't know
I saw it clear as 3 a.m.)

Let's get some hot chocolate, babe.
And for that I'd dress up naked as the mountain on the box
if I can wear your sheets like snow.
I'm all kitsch this time of year
sentimental and necessary as marshmallows.
(don't pretend you don't like it
I saw you smile even though you were told not to.)

And will you find my hair the next morning
trailing aimlessly on your pillow
whispering to you "I will not tell,
I will not tell."
Will you find an eyelash and blow it into the crevaces
where the cold creeps in like white mice?

Let's get you some vitamins, dear.
for I cannot bear the bitterness the pills leave in your mouth.
I'd like to wash it out with soap
I'd like to scold you, " never take those things again
never say those vulgar medicinal letters, the R, the X."
Let me fill you with C and E.

Let me pretend to be your wife, dear.
Just for today, let me sweep up the mess the dog left
when he scratched his way through your door.
Let me wear the apron today and cook the peppers we bought
those parrot-colored waxy skinned bells
which will curl up like November.
Let that month and it's shrivled days
like the Chinese restaurant and it's malformed chiles
like the Chinese restaurant and it's polyurathane Buddha
never be ours.

Leave me to sleep in the basement inside of you
where I will read the directions to old board games
and let what heat my body can produce
rise up into you.