as there's no one else
on this remote 2 a.m. highway
who doesn't deserve to be hit
aside from feeding deer.
The heat's cranked
in an effort to purge out a chill
that's deeper than skin and bone.
Dry air attacks my nostrils
making it harder to breathe
like this cigarette I don't want
but need.
New warmth makes the blood
from my knees flow faster.
I feel it through the denim
congealed against my flesh
regretting nothing
of the recent friction
endured on that floor
of a make-shift bedroom
where relative strangers
vented their best.
And to think
if I didn't fear exodus
I could share a world
that you wouldn't believe existed
keeping you eating
from palms and pockets
the voyeur that you are
no better than this harlot.
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