The buttplug is less certain after all.
It has something to do with the space
between wanting and seeing. It wants
to be something. It is perched on a postbox
like a hat. Why not call it a hat on a postbox instead?
A mourning song because the postbox will be gone soon.

Might infrequent use make it less vulgar?

Let me tell you why that buttplug was there.
Let me tell you why I think what I thought
was a buttplug was there.
It was holy and
could go where it pleased.

I am a man who stands in Bunnings and
chooses nuts and corresponding bolts
based not on the facts placed in front
of him but on what might look like
it should fit and it prides me to say

I am a man who saw a shape and made a buttplug.

I need new eyes better
suited to my needs.
I need a new and calmer imagination,
my friends keep dying in this one.
Almost everything it makes
has some consequence.
I see buttplugs everywhere
and my friends die.

It is exhausting.