Enamel Id

I make it out, hot heavy breath tingling with the mild burn of garlic, to cough and smell it quickly, no one's watching, slip in the gum. Offer it others. Stuffing fists in pockets, I heat my gummed heels with brisk pacing towards the windowless cell to bloom a shrine in fewer hours. He's going to be the Joseph in her football fantasy, she's looking fine in her bra and panties, I laugh and lean forward too much and block my friend's eyes.

We go to a pilot's house, and I lose it. The metro riders think I'm an idiot, a forty something, presumably female who looks like she made herself with a flock of seagulls. Try to climb it, the escalator's so slippery, the chasing man in the vest is fast but we're faster.

Find it again at the Chinese restaurant as a mixture from two bottles we smuggled in, spill one, pour another, break a glass, don't care. It runs all hot in my throat. I find her from yesterday, her pants remind me of my eyes, her boots of dress up. We could make it, we probably could, but I'm not concerned.

Let's blow it! There's another place to go. The man is outside, his eye is black and blue and beautiful. I ask him how, he swears he's been jumped. I give him my drink, gin and tonic is his favorite too. They call me after, and my glass meets the sidewalk in shimmering splinters. The metro disagrees again. I weave myself upwards through the telephone booth, weave down. board, disembark. I scare some away cause I'm punching the newspapers, the spitting man wants no charity, even Samaritan.

The last one's almost a blur, but that's where you come in wrapped in almost abhorrent cotton, weaved in stripes. I try to ruin your night. I bite and snarl and froth and snap and yell and bellow. You take it and heavy. There's no reason and I don't need one. don't need one and that's the only one.

Back in the cell, the boys go to bed, somehow my shoes are dirty. we bite and snarl and froth and snap and yell and bellow and you say my name like I'm amnesic and forge black holes on my neck, scratch constellations on my spine. I'm not nearly as empty as the space you make me, but to walk you home remains an impossibility.