But maybe
baby we're getting too old
for this.
Rubbed raw, thirsty
and all lips are swollen.
Cracking bones
and sore quads
from what once
came too easily.
The sweat runs down walls
far too thin
for our neighbors.
Three times a night?
Cut back to twice.
Save a shot for later.
Utilize the flavor saver.
Do we kiss our mothers
with these mouths?
It's a conundrum.
But the curves
of the small
of your back
fit my hands
like the duct-taped
thesaurus
in a poet's
rape kit:
Chloroform.
Candy.
A wig
and some panties.
The flowers have left
the building with Elvis.
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