It’s easier before the first time
because afterward, you know
what you’re doing. This type
of knowing is a sweatmark
left on the leather seat
of a taxi cab. You think of
yourself. Is she laundry fresh,
inchoate succubus,
is she a genius? O, how
I love the smell of genius.
Baby lips part to let the snake
tongue come through.
Once, through a hotel
window, I saw a riverboat
casino wink at me. O, obscenity.
I’m told backyard cats take
time growing into
those big heads. I’m told
nighttime brings you closer
to the dead. I’m told
the caged octopus always
gets her meat. My glasses
gone, this nighttime softly
tears paper into pieces with
the television on. I am
inertia bloom in the lone
blue light. I fall in love
with everyone I meet.
