the chaotic movement
behind the bushes
of my neighbor's front yard

the yelps of a dear
caught in the headlights,

she pleads
for the flesh
to sink down
to the depths

where no man
dares tread

the moon shines
upon bare backs
like the dead weight
inside the flask

two pour into
one

and the hush
comes quickly;

sweeps the night
off it's feet
and lays it to rest

by the curb

or bed;

much like the face
of a newly wed
into his or own
hands.