Butcher's Love

he gave me his heart
GAVE gave GaVe
MY heart deflating when he wasn't
behind the pasty counter
small boy reaching out
for ham roll froze
reaching out
reaching out
hand stretched
hand s t r e t c h e d . . .
I sheepishly followed suit
he descended from the roof
down
the
stairs
offering peace in the form
of a pink blowfish
a pink blowfish?
with cellulite
a pumpkin sized, pumping mass
a tentative fingertip
a speckly texture
"take my heart"
"keep it in a warm box"
"I don't want it"
"I want you"
his grin perfecting face
the blowfish moved
in it's digestion of
my felt-tip red
HEART
and I wasn't Helena