and your perfect ask
‘Would you scratch my back?’ is enough
to stretch out hands because folk who love
happily scratch backs where a person can’t reach
and the perfect one
is the kind without give and take
repercussion; like a given scrape
of skin without expectation of return.
No; it’s not for gain;
no transacting for dividend,
economics, or seeking a friend,
but a reaching act of warmth and fingernails;
like a one way kiss,
my itch stopping behaviour
-simpler than poetry can carry-
back scratching seems, in love, all there really is.