If your name was Angus this would be a different ballgame.

I like you half woozy in my house
your legs compact because they’re too much
to stay underwater. There’s not enough bath
for you and your rumbling laugh.
I like you not looking at me because you’re
pretending to be an aeroplane.
And I like you fidgeting childlike in your seat,
hearing your voice through the door talking
animated, to strangers, when you go to pee.

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