the world was all peyote and sugar crystals, and the ice in your eyes burned me so sweet. i made the tomato sauce and you made the black coffee with beans shit out by leprechuans and we drank moonlight from the belly of honeybears. you read me dirty pulp in a pretzel in a blue field while the leaves singed your fingernails. we danced inside the sidewalk cracks. we played house outside of kmart and i saw your breath, heavy with strawberry hill, hanging above the plastic bed. morning was like an ex-wife's bruises and your serpent kisses fell me. we melted together in the shower and i left chewing gum traces between your eyelashes and in the caverns behind your knees. dark was bread and sex was milk.

i shook the stars from my hair, and lost all but one
(the epic gap between your front teeth, pressing my tongue back into my throat).