from a couch, back in pocket

i packed the information deep in the crease of a car seat waiting for him to return from his midnight run to the south-side of town where whispers were captured and drowned in the effervescent moon glow

building intensity until climax and i should change my shorts before i return unless you can convince them the squirm in my heels and kicks of my legs are due to an innocent grabbing of my sinister stick plucked and peeled from the family tree i fell out of two weeks before the beginning of jail night stays

i commit the crime, and they saw it that way, wishing wicked thoughts would welcome whatever it is you drink before toxic conversations turn to fists breaking flesh and “i hate you’s” that are healed by mornings aching eyes, rolling over and smelling thighs until you realize it’s the thought of disappointment you dispose of in accidental dumpster fires where once and again, forever, and never will my rod bend when i capture a glimpse of your stagnant water wishing it had taken a left instead of a right down the middle, play it safe bullshit life without a fight to call me to help during hellfire deliveries, packages banged and rearranged wondering which doorstep you live behind

i knew waiting for you would spin into this

the information is there

deep in your seat

take a look

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