A dream
I'm trying to get into my old room at home in Boston. Some of my things are still there. Behind me the door opens and a young man with a shotgun comes to me. then he stands before the door and hands over the gun. I twirl it over my head and then I'm on my moped next to a broken down carp someplace on a highway. Several moments later the moped is dead and falls apart
Poem
Looking sliding my thigh between yours
Denim on denim
Skin beneath the denim
The train rocks on the track
We stand
At the end of the car
Only a few passengers
We don't care if they look
We are lost
In this act
Your hand on my crotch
My cock underneath the denim
The train shutters into Times Square.
We don't stop.
Lena bites her lip
As we dry hump
Doors open
Doors shut
The train
Screeches out of Times Square.
Lena shuts her eyes
Moan
Stutters.
Lena.
No comments:
Post a Comment