No light rises from your waters And you, hot mollusc that you are You lay me down beneath them As your mistaken identities jar Your face is contorting as you tell me Of the things that trouble you You live your life in speech and gestures And in the ill-timed rendezvous Passive encouragement Seems to be what you seek Don't mistake me for a scratching post For the weak How many things do I need To pretend that I don't understand? My assent is not my acquiescence My tiredness is never planned I can always cake my shoes With convenient mud And smile with conceit as I drag them through leaves As I should