Minutes before the third of 3 doors mistakenly slam
In your haste to beat the flush & morning dump
Of gargantuan gas guzzlers, of violent tsk-ing,
You ripped salt sweet sated lips from my face
Left me raw meat, and a virginal distance
With which to kiss the world today

Try as I might in exclusive effort
To fillet meagre fat from a skeletal day
I can only fix a gutter dweller conscience
On the wounds that you have deftly dealt me
The blows I've used to break in your newest body
And I wonder, can I resign from all but your later touch