Kalman loves Edit

Sorry, I’m not good at this sort of thing.

I usually write poems and microwave oven manuals; I’m but a simple man.

Imagine that this is a poem.

The process started when I walked in on you, you’re so daring you were having a bath behind an open door

in some old fart’s flat.

There was too much courage in your face hair, I couldn’t wash my hands with you staring at me.

When I went for a piss later, the bathtub was empty,

and I’m too down-to-earth to imagine your presence into it.

I’m sorry, I’ll try to be a better man in the future.

Photography would help, but that’s more than I dare to wish for.

Dear Edit, I’ve spent today standing in my own shower - I’m sorry I don’t have a tub at home -

- and I was putting your shape into my cracked tub,

I think I’m almost there.