On the way back
from the town where you were born,
we pull over by the side of the road
to make out a little (my intention),
but when you reach for it,
devour me in seconds,
I have no objections.
And I suddenly get it.
And the mind floods with stories you hear
about cops and all those thrusting queers
by the side of the road, in the dark,
for the past twenty thousand years.
It's a good moment to pause.
Bring your head up from mine,
and ensure the taste of your lips.
With each passing car, light bends, reason slips.
In this eight hundred year old
forest cathedral, you anoint
yourself with my want, wipe my fear
with your shit-eating grin.
When the oceans finally boil, this is how
I'll begin to remember the world unspun.
In the meanwhile,
I tuck in,
With a final kiss thank you
for a job well done.