An Unhiegenic Affair

Her hormones fled the coop on scalding tires. He drifted into her, working the night-shift of a traveling fantasy. Motel maids were her sisters bars her occupation, a place to work on the aerobics of hope. Their love was an unhygienic affair. Everything spilled out, much maintenance in putting back in. Emotional jism was scrubbed by hand until skin-tight excuses glistened milky as mollusk flesh. They had lots to attend to. Feelings had to be daily resuscitated into former victimized forms. He would not leave; she would not go. He anointed her again, and again with his pity-me flesh. Their mutually dependent rodeo played itself out on the steps of a haggard tomorrow, both now blinded by owl-light.