Why I Bought Her That First Drink

I love my brain
more than I do my heart.
My heart is messed up.
It lives in a cage full of slop.
It keeps moving around
while my brain
just sits there and does its work
inside the rock on my neck.

I’m not interested in hearing
about how the stuff mythology
assigns to the heart
is really done in the brain. 
I’m not talking about that.
I’m talking about pumping blood
versus switching circuits on and off
and on again.  I’m saying
I dig electricity over hydraulics.

Don’t tell me it’s crazy
to have a preference for some organs
or that I couldn’t have one without the other.
I’m not saying I’d kick my heart out of bed.

I’m saying
that given a choice
between fluid and fire,
I choose the fire.