it feels perverted
dry ******* in the backseat
you rode home from the
hospital in
when you were just
three hours old
yet we've laid here
shirtless
four hours like this
fogged up the windows
with racetracks of rain
it's storming out there
it's pulses and giggles and
the radio quit playing
fuzzy then nothing but
our limbs cramping
knotted together and
it feels perfect