spin—for a moment even some yarn
in which we both give a ****
and we spend long, quiet evenings quoting
out of biographies of JFK or Bryan Ferry
and forget for a while all the things
we hate about each other, the things that
make us spit on the ground when they
come to mind;
forget them and maybe make love like
normal people. not against the counter before work
lifting your pinstripe skirt—rolling it up, really,
over your *** to gird the top of your hips.
(chaffing crown of ****** thorns)
maybe instead give me more than
5 minutes
and let me bury my face down in you and
you can wrap your legs around my head
to keep me there as long as you please.

and maybe later i'll laugh, sitting against the headboard, long-hand writing,
at something one of my characters has said and looking up
from an account you're working on you won't
understand my laughter but you will be
glad of it.