Evil Knievel in Love

There is nothing I wouldn't do for you.

Nothing I wouldn't want to do. 

I'd walk barefoot on miles of glass to get to you.

Eat fire for you.

Chase it with gasoline because fire isn't enough.

Fire is sissy stuff.  

Break every bone like Evil Knievel.

Bust my spleen.

Jump the Grand Canyon 

and five double-decker burning busses 

that spell your name,

wearing a flaming suit that burns wild for you. 

I'd eat radiation for breakfast with you.

Learn guitar to play you 

every love song ever sung until my fingers bleed for you. 

Then finger paint a portrait of me and you 

as I give bone marrow to you.

I'd surf on an shark to impress you. 

Break a bull bareback for you. 

Bare-naked wrestle a bear to honor you.

Lick a penguin.

Eat gas station sushi for you. 

Get Covid-19, the flu, and the bubonic plague for you.

Box a mouthy kangaroo. 

I'd skinny dip in lava for you. 

Swim the Bermuda Triangle twice.

Climb Everest. 

Fist fight a yeti.

Take a bone from a pit-bull to please you. 

Shave a lion's mane.

Brush a tiger's teeth with my testicles, if you asked me to. 

Steal the Mona Lisa, if you wanted it. 

Swallow rusty nails for you. 

Grapple with a gorilla over you.

Wallow with a walrus. 

Self-immolate as a testament of my affection for you.

Give you my ears, my eyes. 

Give you a kidney I'd carve out with a pen knife 

and wrap in Christmas paper for you.  

Or a leg or two.

A hand. An arm I'd hack off with a hacksaw. 

And at least 8 of my fingers.

Give you a bone, any bone,

until there's nothing left of me

because it's all been given to you.

I'd build a time machine, 

if you wanted me to.

Travel to 1945 Hiroshima to sit through a nuclear bomb in a lawnchair just for you. 

Melting with arms outstretched,

smiling because,

like everything, it is for you. 

If I were a tree 

I'd be a stump for you. 

Having given my fruit to feed you. 

My limbs to warm you.

And the rest of myself to shelter you,

pining that such modest things might bore you. 

There's nothing I wouldn't give to you. 

And nothing I will ask of you. 

Nothing I wouldnt do for you.

And nothing I will expect of you. 

I am not a daredevil, true.

But no dare is too great. 

Too great for you. 

I bought you gifts before I knew you,

gifts that fit and suit you. 

That sit here, as I do.

I sit here dreaming of jumping alligators and double-decker busses. 

Dreaming and waiting to burn wild for you.