Sex Shop, Bus Stop

water-based blues

Yesterday in the chaos of remembering
How slippery my heart is
Many bottles of lube came crashing down

The shelf dropped its glass shoulder
And bottles
(being bottles)
Did that domino thing
Where they fell to the ground

So fast I couldn’t catch them
So many I couldn’t count
Right in the middle of
Thinking about love

At least it was lube and not whiskey
At least it was lube and not wine

A water-based lube baptism
Bless the newness of love every time

At least my slippery heart
Will be all lubed up
So I can safely invite you inside

 

in training

bravado
big bookshelf
big tongue
you’re a hearty package

tactile and
tied up with ego
volunteering your grip
to my hungry flesh
I take it all and keep opening for you

you tell me there’s so much going on behind my eyes
I think you said “those eyes”
which could be patronizing or a compliment
but I keep baring myself for you

I like the glare
beneath the spotlight of your
Male fucking Gaze
you don’t get
it’s a performance

I’m writing this on the bus
and the driver is IN TRAINING
aren’t we all?
he keeps almost hitting cars
nauseous jerky pauses

at the scary downhill stretch
his instructor warns,
if you aren’t sure, just stay!
which makes sense if you’re a bus driver
but I respectfully disagree

 

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