Our mouths dance dangerously, soaked and spiked without words.
We attack each other’s tongues like spines in the break.
We’re lying in bed, evaporating out the window and into the sun like mud.
I can’t tell if you’re enjoying the moment or enjoying the wait.
How does one person fold over so much in so short a time?
I don’t think I’d recognize you if I had just met you now.
As seagulls float over the super market parking lot I hold your hand,
Put it on the stick shift. White darts afraid to leave the A&P.
Our lust might be hiding something: a voided heart, an endless drive.
What is it? I won’t say anything about it if you don’t.
Aside: I always realize my mistakes three years too late. My purpose is
To find the truths that do not trap.
I lie to you most when we lay, our mouths close, magnetic, lidless.
Are we kissing now, or just eating each other’s breath?