When is it that you've had enough
when you can't tell methane from Mexico
and the bruises on your knees
resemble the hickies
from the drug dealer boyfriend
you left last summer
I remember him very well
and picture his blurred face
Looking at me longingly
from between my legs
he was sweaty
and I was vulnerable
and he used every inch of my body
to convince me of his desire
but I dont mind
and an certainly not shameful
of that curiosity I developed
for telling skunk from week
and the admiration
and sexual frustration
for the cholo type of boy
sometimes I miss you
but maybe those are nights
that I'm not getting any