But you haven’t mastered everything
almost like chemicals singing to your
flesh—It gets to be night when it will
and you want to shock-haired slink a

round cold brickling buildings—Trying
to touch a face long burned up by ab
straction by alchemy—But yeah too
mature to drag these cherished images

Behind you the elemental comforts
doled with no touching. You moan.
You raise your hips above the line the lake

I’ll beat it all down until it worships me–
I’ll cringe when it suggests to walk by