The Dolphin of Tainted Love

There she was, outside,
unjacketed and shivering in the cold.
The cork-shaft of the cigarette filter
parted her blue-red lips.
Nicotine wove blood with air
like white seed deep inside her heart.
Her tan pointed pump toe
shoe-stroked
a lump of salt stained snow.

I thought about fucking her right then,
a tine of a fork
piercing the yolk of a four-minute egg,
into nothing,
into nothing,
right then.