The things I want to do, transitive.

I want to send you pictures of my cat,
and make you Windows 8. No, just to be safe, Windows 9, too.
And give you the paper that I shot a bullseye on.
I want to tell you my secrets, and maybe make up some of our own.
I want to draw on you while you're sleeping, and for you not to be upset about it.
And then think about all the devious, mischievous, manipulative things I'm capable of,
and shred them. 'Cause I don't want to do them. Not to you.
I want to discover something for you. If not a brand new color, then a second or third edition of a book.
And there's an image that I just have to perfect for you.
I want to look pretty for you. Or maybe it's for me to feel like it is for you.
Either way, I'd find my "season" and dress accordingly.
I want to impress you with my mental math skills.
Or set up the new flat screen TV, 'cause I'm just not that dainty.
And capture each of the three kinds of clouds and trap them in little jars.
And you'd never run out of AA batteries, because I'd always check the inventory.
I wouldn't let any toothpaste caps in a 30 ft radius get mucky,
and your sponges would never start to smell.
I always want to say goodnight, 'cause what if the world ends?
I want to watch porn with you, and maybe try something new.
But maybe not because it's great now.
I just want to be nice, okay?

for anonymous

I'm here! And here also! And right here! And right there! And there. And there and there. And over there! And over here! And out there! And in here! And here for you. And there for you. Always here. Over and out.

ubiquitous ali