THE YOUTH SPILLED OUT driving all night makes us horny and indiscriminate just want to fuck and fall heavy into sleep not seeing the road or dark patches between songs on the radio or streaks left on retinas, streetlights tearing up the journey like strips of black crepe at home they probably had a line on us already but still this was the end we had to get out later I’m taking a shower. he walks in and tries to come up with some shit to say. I realize I have no soap and no towel. I have dust in my throat, far back where the water can’t reach. “what the fuck are you smiling about?” I swallow rhythmically, like a blowjob, waiting for steam to paint the room invisible, thinking of our old Youth Group and the heat and drumming wetness on my skin like eager fingers plucking stray hairs later we’re at it again, spit on fingers sliding in and out of him remembering the shallow stars splintering our Night-Drive like shards of a broken windowpane – and shards match stars, each jagged edge like fire cutting into our guts we are the dead when we fuck. |
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