But You Don’t Date Guys Like That

He wants to love you

like a death row inmate loves
the sun, the pain of knowing

like suicide bombers love
martyrdom, the smell of burning flesh

like a butterfly loves
nectar, the caress of the wind

like America loves
Chipotle, cultural appropriation

like Juárez loves
Tequila, butchering women

like Austin loves
food trucks, gentrification

like Chicago loves
deep-dish pizza, murder

like Los Angeles loves
itself.

He would miss you like
a metaphor misses like, or as

a racist misses Governor Wallace, or as

the sand dunes miss the waves, or as
a new mother misses the weight, or as

a bullet misses the dark, still
smell inside a fully-loaded gun
under a motel pillow.