Real Love Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Intuition sees the ice in your soul
She unravels herself like an execution
We are the bargain store
We are the dancers of the absurd
Do you pray when you hear an ambulance?
Food lines with bricks of cheese
Mirrors that make you look thinner
Pay those that flatter you

Stanzas with rhetoric
Poems as dull as tread mills
Why do I like you?
Maybe it is because you make me dig
Maybe my vanity doesn’t get it done
Maybe the American dream is ending
Do we collect one another like a hobby?
The well fed with their toys

Real love has no insurance policies
We are in touch today
Survival is a hunter
A dark hunter lean as a talon
Real love is money for the subway