I hate going
to clubs
where people just stand around
with beers in their hands,
laughing and sleezing
under the revolving eye
of the strobe sun.

I gotta dance on a girl.

I gotta feel her hips
underneath a velvet miniskirt;
her legs
all soft
and microscopically
prickly.

Mysterious
mirrors
in the bathroom,
Those hollywood
lightbulbs
flickering
making
faces
look so young
and old.

"Twice
I've turned my back
on you."

Sometimes you scare
me
with your words.

So scared
I dropped my cigarette
twice
on your balcony;
shivering fingers
letting go.

Strobe lights
make your shoulder blades
look like wings
when you
dance.

Spread all over my chest,
I can feel you flexing,
little dragon
burn me up
with your wings,
leave some of those flaking
scales
behind.

Let the music
drip
like hot metal
in a **** rain.

"Chris just got kicked out of his house."

We rode over to his house,
and I listened to her sing.

Christ sat on the porch railing
dangling
his legs,
biting his fingernails.

I stood on the grass,
as she walked up to him.

He looked
at her neck.

Yukimi
put her hands on his shoulders
and kissed him on the lips.

Something
could have rose
in me.

But it didn't.

We rode back
and Chris slumped into the couch.

I heard him *******
his fingernails
as me and Yukimi lay in bed.

"Lips can do more than talk,
I can tell
he needed that,
I'm sorry if it weirded you out."

"No,
it really didn't."

Your fingers manipulating
her hips.

The way her skirt rides
and rides.

Her moving
with you
waiting for you to show her what's next,
to give direction
with your fingertips.

Laugh all you want,
but when I was a kid
I didn't watch
Thriller after dark.

But I danced.
I danced my *** off in that lit living
room
with Joci.

All night long,
popping
and moonwalking.

Now that I'm old(er)
I know how to build spaceships
and I can put
the popcorn
in the microwave
myself.

I can take the popcorn out of the microwave
and watch Thriller all night long.

But
then
my little woodpecker
came.

When I was
Cynical
with power
now and then,
I became
Raw
and uncarved
again.

We dance over the graves all night long.
Our tombstones are smooth
and we make light
together
with our feet.

Little woodpecker
what are you beginning to etch
in me now?