Love Is like the Great Pacific Garbage Patch

I cast my net wide
In search of love,
Dragging the seas endlessly
For what ought to be an easy catch.

Love caught me in its current,
Pulled and pulled me
Until the waves washed me here
(This line doesn’t make sense)

To this shithole.
Here I find empty cans, lost scarves,
Broken bottles and old refrigerators,
Packages with their logos long washed away.

I collected them,
Diverse fragments of love’s
Memory, coalescing and breeding
On this monstrous island.

If a garbage patch is all
That love offers,
I’ll be its king.
Gather what supplies I can.

I can work with this.
With shredded paper for hair
And an old rug for the torso
I can make myself a lover.

Or maybe I’ll just jack off instead.

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