I've got my love
on the tip of my finger
& I'm holding a drop
just above your
halo,

waiting on it
to soak through to
your clothing.

There's purity
in the streetlights,

innocence in the dull
sheen of the water
still wet on the streets,

and love in your
breaths.

Your chest beats
slowly in the thickening
fog,

slowly and heavily,

you shouldn't have smoked
that cigarette,

you desolation angel.

And we pass the
gas stations and the
cornerstores and the
neon OPEN signs
flash and blink at us,

telling us something
gravely important,

inviting us
into their jeweled
corridors,

their zoo.

There is a light
in your eyes that
never goes out,

looking up at me
in the meager light
of the urban decay
(lights are still on in the
highrises and the section 8
houses & they burn &
we wonder)
trying to find
an answer trickling
from my lips,

like saltwater--
but I can't say
anything.

I've been too stricken.

Stricken by the sudden
sound of pealing bells
in the distance,

stricken by the lightning
quick flash of silver
from when our hands
lazily touch,

like a hard tap on the
spine & a hard tug
on the tail.

My insides roll,

my throat is dry,

can't stop fidgeting,

what price cigarettes?

I feel faded like my
old blue jeans,

& speckled in baby
blue paint,

walking sideways
down a dank alley
where a bicycle sits
propped against
old mossbricks.

The smell of the rain
clings heavy on
our clothes, the taste
of the rain seeps
between my cracked
lips.

& you clutch my
hand in yours (I
can feel the heat, I
can smell your
butterflies & taste
the sewage from
rusted vents) and kiss
me ******* the mouth.

Left hand meets your
waist,

right hand holds yours,

just below eye level
& I can feel you smile
as my kisses deepen you
& open you,

I can feel your teeth
brush my lips soft
like a paintbrush,

I can feel your nails
like chalk
on the smooth
back of my neck,

& then we step out
into the nightlife,
smelling like cigar smoke
and a drunken day.