Oh Shiva, Shiva, Shiva,
you are so drunk
and sloppy,
and oh so thick.
I’m so afraid of how easy this appears to be.
Oh Shiva, Shiva, Shiva
you just my type
with those juicy hamhocks
and big bright headlights
and proportionate caboose.
The blemish on the side of your face
under your nose tells me
that you can be had
but at what price?
Nothing is free in the Bay Area
especially time.
Oh Shiva, Shiva, Shiva,
are you always this fun? or is the alcohol
that is making you laugh at my joke
about the guy who sitting in the seat next to you
not knowing the difference between creepy and romantic
because he was European.
Oh Shiva, Shiva, Shiva
I’m loose and you’re loose
and we’re being so obvious right now that
the other passengers on the train are smirking
as you write your number on a piece of paper
before we reach the Shattuck stop.
Oh Shiva, Shiva, Shiva
I hated myself for months
for accidentally throwing that piece of paper
on the way over to my friend’s place.
It was late, and I was drunk and it would take me
days to even remember the brief encounter we had that night.
Which now with clarity, I can see
that it might have been the best possible outcome
for such drunken encounters.
~Edward Austin Robertson
Nuclear Polio Vaccination 