Trouble
She flew around me
dripping all kinds
of hubble-bubble & trouble.
After work,
I would run to her
to sip and suckle
in the groping dark.
She began to grow
fingernails inside my head,
they tore away
clumps of caution,
shreds of decency.
The hook in my mouth
slipped out,
about the same time
her ex showed up.
Fresh out of prison
tattooed, slick & slimy.
They left in a beat-up Chevy,
leaving me stuck to a wall
fumbling for
a light switch.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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