I try and melt you,
but you are so cold,
it's like you were born
in a different century.
At least be Annie Oakley.
I'll be on my couch in jeans and Chuck Taylors
looking at a black and white photo of you.
I'll kiss my fingertip,
put it as close as I can to your lips,
drag it to your rifle and say "Bang!"
This way, I won't mind so much
when you stare back at me
all grainy and from a long time ago.
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