everything has the disclaimer

[Steve]

there’s a disclaimer on everything
on every item of life
on love
hate
peace
war
on cracking your toes in brisk morning air-light-life before your eyes open
and the paper slaps your neighbor’s house.
there’s a precaution to tying your shoes
and insisting on being told the truth;
on eating under-cooked meat—
begging, begging with our noses in the air waiting, waiting for our treat.
there’s a disclaimer on everything
on every finger-nail clipping
on death
religion
science
art
on taking a thought that comes as swiftly as a passing perfume and pinning it
down, in some form, in part
or in full
and spreading it out like fire
until bare truth of ash falls everywhere...
a for-warning on breathing
on seeing
believing
denying
expecting
delaying
there’s a disclaimer on everything
from secrets told in empty rooms fallen from the lips of previous tenants
now dust beneath an oven,
to the wet film of fresh kissing from a room not too far away...
a disclaimer on that kiss
that kiss might have been necessary
akin to instinct
on this kiss
and that one
on his
and hers
and ours
because everything
every kiss
look
thought
feeling taste image sensation pulse breath touch doubt spit clitoris sweat chapter poem story kiss
life
everything has a disclaimer:


May Be The Last.