Late Night Talks of Metronomy
your hands were clammy
wrists thin and
the windshield seductively fogged
begging my wool socks
to draw fuzzy lines
from the dashboard
we both drank from
my green tea
cheeks burning and red,
the crumbs of love
you fed me were but the
ones i already left behind
with such earnest you spoke
whispering in tones of lavender,
earl gray breaths
that came from the bottom
of your stomach.
but you are blind, old boy
you fool who wishes
to adore me so fiercely
when you cannot see
the painted face i hold
in front of your eyes
so we sat for a while
and breathed out
hot breath
from the same air
that touched the sun
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