- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Three Stooges
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Vultures and country songs. I imagined him naked. With me. In a freezer, whispering warm next to my ear and in clouds of frost for me to take it. Country twang and all. Something about that boyish charm and the visual moments of red faced insecurity. The whistle. The conversation about the brain activity of psychotic killers. The mirror of the eyes in my mind. The voice, a tone that sticks. The all of a sudden 'I've got to dip' feeling. I've gone Three Stooges. Slapstick serious.
I'll keep my distance.
