…on my way to smoke and drink and smell the hollow of a man’s neck, a mixture of smoke and heat and metal rubbed off. piney, brutally intoxicating. i come with some kind of drumbeat, you’ll have to read the manual, just kidding, put that down and kiss me right here until i am weeping

My fantasies are worn out histories. You know what it’s like when mistakes go unmade.

We are wandering the city in this little blue car, laughing, listening to tapes. I try biting my cigarette filter just to make a neat feeling in my teeth, a stress all the way into the jaw, some kind of glorious digging in. We spin off to another country, get through customs without birth certificates and drive up onto a frozen field to peep in at the edge of the earth. Where the field parted its long fertile legs, the sun went down.

I got a spot that gets me hot, but you ain’t been to it.

We are close to ripping into each other like Christmas morning, but manage to keep it casual. Somehow things seem larger, more interrelated. We are constantly marveling at the river of stuff we have to talk about. Aren’t we enlightened and brave and filled with light? Look how well we manage to make this male/female friendship thing work without stupid old sex spoiling everything

You’re so tall. It’s like I climb a waterfall.

But somehow I can never quite catch my breath. I spend too much time staring at those huge hands, thinking lusty thoughts but trying to keep my libido contained, thinking maybe we started something that was too big to finish under the circumstances.

How’d you get built like that? You ain’t been here that long. Crazy little thing has just gone crazy, girl how’d you get a name like crazy little thing?

Piercing the skin of a peach, devouring it with soft moans about how good it is, trying to manage all the nectar. I put the stone in my mouth and run my tongue along the crevices, getting unexplainable little rushes off the sharp parts and pleasant ridge of pulp near the top. I stick my hand out the window and hold the peach pit into the wind. A cuff of cool air winds around fingers, up my wrist and sways the hair on the back of my arm. The road rushes beneath us. With my legs parted just enough it seems to enter me. Maybe you did not notice but if you had stopped right there I would have opened up all the way, rolled around the frozen furrows, melted the whole thing down.

Me, my life is long with reasons few like you, When I go and when I’m gone I will understand these things I never knew.

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