race against the sun
Baby,
the sunset is dead set
on beating us at rising,
like egg it boils above the horizon
bruised as grocery store plums,
and we as unsure as infant thumbs;
we scatter our thoughts,
and toss about our eyes,
puzzled at the mess beneath us like i spy.
You take hold of one Levi jean pant leg,
yours, but where are mine?
The zipper of Sevens capris
leaves a stinging imprint on my spine,
my blouse is moist and intertwined
with the strands of crimson carpeting,
while your polo is draped over
the face of a flat screen t.v.
Violet fades to pale yellow
The sun is beating us, baby
how will it be to not feel you in my arms,
in my mouth, your skin
upon mine
How will it be to see the zipper mark
tattooed on my spine?
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One tear in a bucket, fuck it.
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Synopsis
Sneaking out after a one night stand with your soulmate...
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