A collection of love stories, told in poems, from one would-be lover to another. From The Trouble With "The trouble is that I hold them up to my mouth,lip to this bit of fruitskin, this network of fructose and sclereids,pretending that it is warm, that it breathes and moves and goest o markets on Sundays, that it wears silver rings and ink, that it is not violet but the freshred of your mouth and that this is some kind of strange kiss."
