we were tense as matchsticks-
                  my love and I,
                  tucked into the beat-up, secondhand sofa,
                  I whispered, "I want to distract you,"
                  and with each slow syllable her desperate grip
                  cut deeper into my thigh.
the sitcoms and the summer friends-
           well, they all tease
           the aching head rushes
                            and
           the itchy fingertips,
           "could I get you something to drink?"
           yesyesyes, 5-parts *****/one part tonic water/a pinch of lime.
the party died down-
    grabbed my hand rushed me to the bedroom,
    struck your body against
    hungry mine, and
                                       we were lit.
what was it Spencer said?
something like:
all fires must burn alive, to live.
it's safe to say,
he was right.