Our glasses are half empty, whiskey the color of your eyes when you are aroused. I fixate on the whir of the overhead fan. When you reach for me I practice my “out of body” until my eyes close. You ensnare me with naivety, expose my liability. It is so easy to distract you, tossing back the sheets we make love and turn away. Silentlysharing your hand rolled cigarette we watch the curls of smoke rise and rip apart in the blades. I vow to not meet again but your eyes are stardust and my heart is a red sports car racing along a razor’s edge.
art by Steve Hanks