Carl says he wants to open a door
in Ed’s chest and crawl in, which makes us fall
in love with Carl. We want to be near
him, stand too close
in bars. Carl makes us want to play
Poor Pussy, a parlor game we learned when we
were five. My grandma taught me. You
can look it up. You keep a straight face
while someone pets your head and says
poor pussy. Poor, poor pussy. Or
at least you try. I am a Poor Pussy
champion, want Carl to lose to me
again and again. Come back, Carl,
we love you. Carl, we’ll let you win.
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