Stuffed animals left a knife smell
we stick on the asphalt. I suggested no
such half-toothed smile. Warm
drink, arrogant beauty—
possibilities of night, deserted
hallways. It was—
it was not her.
A blonde started throat dancing.
I dance, I did, I dance, I do a little.
Light, chewing sound of copper pennies
being run through the mouth. I found
myself licking the motel window.
Air thick with burning feathers.
Tape the door closed, tomorrow
will take all day.
I think it’s perfect.