I bought my sweet boy with
a years worth of eleven-elevens
and an apron-full of white petals.

I won him from an army of ghosts
by leading him by the hand
and never looking back.

I earned him for a price
that I, vagabond, must rent
his heart in which to live.

For I have nothing of my own.
Not anymore.

I  a m  b e ll y up
w ait ing f or the g ull s.

Dear, you see I sift
through my iron ***
of rainy-day pennies and
furled up victory flags
I feel the weight of each
piece and the cold of their
touch on my palms and I
try to pick one I want-
it is all fool's gold.
All it will buy is time.
Turn on the garden hose
and call for sun-
It's time to make
rainbows.

'Have you ever done it to a woman before?'
My throat runs dry, suddenly I'm a fourteen year old boy
shoving my hands into my pockets
dumbly shaking my head.
'Do you want to?'
The boy shuffles feet and casts down his eyes.

'Are you-'
               '-monogamous? Yes.'

Her eyes narrow.
My face suffuses with blood which
suffuses the air a startled electric pink.

The scent and hue are unmistakable.

I feel betrayed.

Don't come any closer.
She draws near. Her lips graze my left pinna.
I groan an ancient groan.

'I'm not going to make this... easy for you'
Her voice is more air than vowel and as thick as red meat.
I shut my eyes.

When I open them, hours later, I peer through my fingers
at the Straight Girl in the mirror
and wonder who keeps
changing the ****** rules.

He sneaks a bold finger into her navel.
She squirms in sudden protest.
He quickly lifts the damp hair from her neck
and kisses little apologies.
Her sigh forgives the intrusion, she rolls to her side
suddenly all hip and pale inner thigh.
He follows swiftly down the valley,
a little boy running home for dinner-
He hums a nothing song.
She quietly hums along.
He waits.
She says it first and means it.
His heart pulses twice at these prophetic murmurs.
Her mood quickly changes, leaps to her feet, flexing naked muscles
and pouting in comic exaggeration.
He laughs and softly adores her unselfconsciousness, this is new.
She bends to kiss him.
He remembers the oven is on.
She remembers the time.
He whistles Last Stand cheerily to the scorched vegetables.
All because she touched him inappropriately in the kitchen
in lieu of uncorking the wine.

Clenching my throat in resistance
I'd like... to reach down deep
pull myself inside out
but I'd never want you to see that.
This wicked penance holds charms
but only for me
like every great lie
full of empty beauty.